Rebel's Consort - Phoenix Book 1 (13 page)
***
Gar sat beside Analena’s table where she could keep a calming hand on the boy’s shoulder. Aaron stood on the other side.
Not that Trace expected problems. For whatever strange reason, he had a high confidence in the Entity’s abilities. The control they exerted over the nanites luckily negated the need for an anesthetic injection. He lowered the tip of a narrow steel spatula to the test medium of nanites, Entity, and Gar’s tissue. Glitter slid on command, sweeping a dollop of mixture with it onto the spatula.
“Ready, Gar?” Trace palmed the boy’s chin and motioned to the side with his eyes. “Look at Aaron. You’ll feel a light touch to the side of your eyeball. I imagine it will itch or tingle. Just keep your hands on me.”
“I’m ready.”
He touched the spatula to the edge of the eye, and then placed the instrument aside to wait for five, perhaps ten minutes. The Entity was a little vague on time accounting. Trace lowered the magnification shield over his own eyes so he could monitor the activity of the nanites. Tiny dots rolled across the cornea and back. Precise and consistent, the nanites worked in a grid on the eye. The boy’s excessive tearing signaled his only obvious discomfort.
“Blink slowly and tell me how you feel.”
Gar’s breathing sped up as he followed the order. Trace noted the increase in blood pressure on the inside edge of his shield without concern. The procedure was strange and somewhat invasive. No one could endure this and be unaffected.
The nanites disappeared from view and he switched to x-ray mode, monitoring their progress around the edge of the eye and back to the connection of the optic nerves.
“Feel weird?”
“Yeah.” Gar’s words wavered, though his palms remained relaxed on Trace’s chest.
“They’re mapping the back. This should be almost over.”
Sixty seconds later, the nanites returned to the corner of Gar’s eye. Trace lifted his shield. Spatula in hand, he pressed it against the eye. A glint of glitter signaled the progression of nanites back to the spatula. He lowered the shield one more time to confirm no residual nanites lingered in the eye.
“Good.” Pleased with the extraction, he carefully lowered the tool into the culture cylinder and waited for the mix of technology and life-form to disembark.
He turned back to Gar. “How’s the eye feel?”
“A little gritty, but okay.” The cylinder held the boy’s attention. “How long do you think?”
“Hard to say. Time is a little tricky. Analena’s arm processed within a few days. Not certain how a different host will impact the timeline and the surface area of an eye is smaller than an arm. I’ll keep a watch and let you know.”
The boy stood up with an awkward droop to his shoulders. He suddenly stuffed his hands into pants pockets and looked at Analena. “If it doesn’t work…I wanted to thank you…you know, for letting me try, ’cause I know you’re worried about me.”
Trace folded his arms and hid a smile as Analena’s eyes widened in surprise. Her free hand reached for Gar. “Of course I worry, you’re one of us. But I really want this for you, as much as you want it for yourself. Now go find Hena. She needs some help mashing those blasted roots for dinner.”
He nodded, two spots of red staining his cheeks in embarrassment as he ducked away to the freedom of the other kids.
“You sound absolutely ancient spouting the old crone speech, Analena.” Aaron patted her head with a laugh as he passed her.
She glared at Trace, “Crone?”
Her look of astonishment prodded him into laughter, and he gave into the need to lean against the table to be closer to her. “Too beautiful for a crone, but you do hover over all of them. They eat it up.”
“They’ve all adapted very well. But I can’t shake the memories I have of bringing these children out of the facilities. Can I ask you a personal question?” Her hand rested over his forearm as if preparing him for a blow.
“If I said no, would that stop you?” He hoped his smile relieved her anxiety for there wasn’t anything he could refuse her.
“I know the Regents are somehow using what they take from these children. Why the constant demand?”
Trace rolled his lips. “I don’t know for certain because I’ve never been on the Regent end of this delivery cycle. I’ll tell you what I’ve put together. The immunizations given to the children produce an abnormal effect in their bodies until puberty. Normally, transplants of most varieties require compatibility of tissue or blood type. The kids’ parts are free of any effects of rejection.”
“I still don’t get why the constant culling or are there just so many of them?”
He pulled away, but Analena caught his hand, keeping him close, reminding him of her comfort to Gar. “From what I’ve had time to speculate and some hypothesis I’ve heard—have you ever noticed how all the Regent’s children are only shown as adults, and how closely they resemble their parents?”
Her brow drew together without response.
“I watched an interview once with Damen Burnhardt, the head of the pharmaceutical conglomerate. He was asked what he would have done differently if he’d been around back when the original plague hit. His answers were spontaneous. At one point, he said, ‘I should have considered bacterial agents as more of a problem than…’ and he caught himself and laughed and modified it to ‘than those people obviously did’.”
She opened her mouth, shook her head, and laughed. “It’s not like the man survived a hundred thirty years.”
Trace squeezed her hand. “If you keep replacing all the limbs and vital organs, and there’s no chance of rejection or infection, a person could live
indefinitely
. A group of people with enough power and money could live
indefinitely
. If they chose to selectively share their advancement, say with other cities around the world, there’d be support for a black market to cull and produce donors.”
A gasp too close to a fight for breath had him closer, pressing his hands to her face. “Analena, relax. Breathe.”
“They’re not—” Her eyes flickered, searching in his face for denial, then she closed her eyes. “They are.”
He released her and sat back down. Her hand immediately latched onto his forearm, seeking his touch. He let her twine her fingers through his and glanced at the cylinder. “I don’t know for certain. I’ve seen enough to piece together comments other doctors made in passing and added to intel I’ve heard in the teams, I suspect it’s true.”
“I never considered it. Though, the funerals for Regents are always heavily guarded and never broadcast.” Her fingers squeezed as she looked at the egg-like substance in the cylinder. “How can they be stopped?”
He raised her fingers to his lips. “Listen to me. If an opportunity presents itself, maybe someday we can help. That’s going to be a world-changing event, not one that one or two people can tackle alone. For now, you’ve bitten off a big chunk just by keeping these kids alive.” With a nod to the cylinder, he added, “If this works for Gar, we can give these kids back some semblance of what they’ve lost. Maybe more—you’ve given them family. Personally, I’d love nothing more than to spit in the Regents’ faces by giving these kids better odds than when they were snatched up like produce.”
A slow smile spread across her face. “You’re right, that old adage about success being the best revenge.”
“Damn right.” He looked back at the eye’s composition, oozy white and now riddled with thin red veins.
“I can’t believe the Entity can manifest regeneration like that.”
“Actually, your nanites and
“Host? You make me sound like—”
“A miracle.” He turned and bent close to her head. “What you offered allowed this to happen.”
“Feels a little like a lab experiment to me, the next evolution.” Her rich, sherry-colored eyes still held doubt.
He could understand her sentiment, even if he didn’t agree with her. What perplexed him was why the crystal, with all its resource and power, choose to offer a solution for these children after their trauma and not before. The only conclusion he could reach was that change, the almost imperceptible physical mutations that constituted Analena’s life and those of her rescued children, was important. The crystal did nothing without planning and purpose. These changes served some long-term goal and, while he might not live to see the reason why, he didn’t care. They were all alive—the only thing that mattered to him.
“Analena.” He tucked her hand against his heart. “Do you really mind if these kids become a new generation of your DNA, as long as they lead healthy, fulfilling lives? I’m guessing they don’t.”
Chapter 12
“I think we’re almost ready.” Trace cupped his hands over his eyes and rubbed them.
Analena’s gaze roamed across his face. If he felt as bad as he looked, then he needed an intervention. One she was happy to deliver.
“Gar.” The boy appeared instantly. She reached for his hand. “Two things have to happen before we go through with this.”
He nodded, a bright expectancy lighting his face.
“First, Trace is going into my quarters to use the deprivation shield and get some sleep. For at least eight hours.” She gave him her best stern look. “He can’t perform well if he’s exhausted.”
Gar gave a reluctant nod.
“The second condition?” asked Trace, the lines around his mouth strained with an unusual lack of acceptance.
“I want these restraints off so I can be up while you’re sleeping. I’m fine. You don’t need to cover everything. It’s been twelve hours.”
“Then, we can do it?” Gar’s look flickered back and forth between them, as if checking for landmines and loopholes.
“After both, we perform the operation.”
Trace’s fingers worked at the restraints around her shoulder as the boy bounced away. “I want you to wear the cradle under the arm until the reconstruction is finished. No lifting kids and no battles-to-the-death until I give the okay.”
“Fine, as long as you follow my orders too.”
“I will always follow your orders.” His weary expression bled into a gentle smile. He helped her up and, after wobbly progress, seated her in the midst of the kids. “She needs to stay quiet, guys.”
As Trace left, Hena offered a conspiratorial smile and scooted closer. “Is he staying?”
For the second time in less than a day, Analena was floored. Activity suspended as every head turned her way, awaiting an answer. “I really don’t know what Trace’s plans are.”
“If he stays, he’ll be here for the newer kids. On site,” Hena hurried on. “Maybe, if Gar’s eye is successful, he’ll take on more cases.”
“Like?” Analena raised her brow, wondering how far this discussion had gone among the kids.
Rolling her lips, Hena slid a glance toward the others and paused, as if she’d headed too fast down her path, and only now realized it was too late to back out. “He’s already looked at Bits’s back and several of the others.” Her voice lowered so the other kids couldn’t hear, but she rushed on. “He wasn’t committing to anything, only checking her for pain. I was with him the entire time. But the others—Yuron’s liver won’t last once he turns thirteen, and…”
This wasn’t where Analena thought the discussion was going. She scrutinized Hena’s expression at the obvious omission of her own circumstances. Not willing to push the teenager, she let it drop. The points were valid. If Gar’s procedure succeeded, it meant a host of new options. What role Trace would play in those remained to be seen, though he’d already expressed similar thoughts.
From the looks on the kids’ faces, even though they couldn’t hear the conversation, they knew their futures were up for discussion. Hope resided their expressions, not anxiety.
“Let’s see how Gar’s surgery goes.”
Hena moved aside to allow the others some face time. Analena had grasped tidbits of their activities over the last few days. In a dizzying rush, they talked over each other, updating her. Two hours passed in a blink. With a nagging suspicion, she excused herself and headed to her quarters. Not surprised, she found Trace in the corner chair, the sensory deprivation strip around his eyes, tension dominating his rigid posture.
Squatting before him, she reached for the strip with her good hand. His fingers grasped her wrist as the strip slid from his face.
“The deal was sleep.”
He glanced at the bed with a pained look. The sheets and pillows obviously posed a lethal adversary, not solace. Ah, another soul subjected to nightmares. She stood and tugged at his hold on her wrist. Before he could pull away, she grabbed his hand. “I’ll watch over you.” With a tilt of her head, she coaxed him toward the bed.
“I can’t make any promises.”
“You already did, now come.” She pushed him onto the bed and dragged off his boots.
He closed his eyes with a resigned sigh and crossed his arms over his chest. As she started to rise, he grabbed her wrist again. “Stay for a moment?”
She settled beside him with her back to the rock wall. His hand moved to her knee for comfort or perhaps reassurance that she wouldn’t leave, she wasn’t sure which.
“What do you tell the kids when they wake up from nightmares?” he asked.
Inching down further so she could whisper quietly, she ran a finger through the black strands of hair over his brow. “After I escaped and…eventually found this place, I searched to see what was here. There are wondrous things—forests that border the city, the ocean at the far edges of these caves.” She lifted her hand away, afraid her touch was bothering him. He caught her fingers and pressed them back to his hair.
“Please, don’t stop.”
More gently, she traced his brow and temple with light touches, as she’d done with Bits and Gar. The muscles of his face and the deep lines of stress softened. Her heart clenched at the quick ease of his body beneath her touch.
“Tell me more.”
“The ocean beats with a beautiful rhythm. You can feel the life, the noise, the sunlight. I thought about having the base there, but I didn’t have tools to create enough comfort. The distance was too far.” She stroked down his cheek, watching the even rise and fall of his chest. “The blue sparkles under the sun and turns gray with white foam peaks in the storms. Truly incredible.”
