Sovereign (Sovereign Series) (10 page)

I
awake to a light that sears through my eyelids even though I can’t seem to open
them.  I’m groggy, and my head aches tremendously.  I draw my hands to my face
to block the light, and open my eyes just enough to see where I am: back in the
room where I started.  I’m back in my own clothes, and it makes me
uncomfortable knowing I didn’t put them on myself.  I sit up and cock my head
to each side, wanting the stiffness in my neck to subside.  And the headache. 
It’s intense, and there seems to be pain in distinct places.

There’s
a tap on the door and my lab tech enters.  Right behind her are Nathan and
Marsiana.  The tech sits next to the counter with the chart flipped open.  I’m
surprised at how thick the file has become.  Nathan and Marsiana stand by the
closed door with their hands behind their backs.  They could be made of stone. 
Two statues. 

The
lab tech begins to speak.  “Her physical aptitudes are excellent.  No
impairments or abnormalities.  While I did note a few injuries, they did not
affect her performance.”  I hadn’t realized I was
performing
.  No one
has looked at me or addressed me since they walked in.  “Blood work was as
expected.”

Nathan
speaks now, “The immunity?”

“Yes.”

“Immunity
to what?” I blurt out.

Nathan
finally looks at me with that crooked smile I’m starting to hate.  Why is he
acting this way?  Pleasant
,
almost.

“Just
about everything,” she explains.  “Every virus.  Every disease.  Every poison.”

“Meds?”
Nathan asks.

“Most
of them, yes.  We had a hard time putting her under,” she tells him.

“How
do you know I’m immune to those things?” I ask.

“Over
the years we’ve injected you with them.  You never respond.  Your immune system
is remarkable,” she says, for the first time with a distinct emotion: wonder.

“It’s
also frustrating,” Nathan interjects.  He still looks happy, though. 

The
captain shifts her weight.  “Why frustrating?”

“Because
she’s unpredictable.  That’s the biggest reason she’s not in Population.  We
can’t anticipate the results of her reproduction.”  His tone has shifted to
grim.  If he’s implying that I have DNA that is otherwise fit for breeding,
he’s off his rocker.  For once I’m glad to be a freak of nature.  I’d die
before letting them
use
me that way. 

“She’ll
make a fine soldier.  So it’s their loss,” Marsi says.  I’m touched that
someone is taking up for me.

“We’ll
see.”  Nathan shoots me a warning glance.

The
tech clears her throat.  “I’ll go over my dietary recommendations with her, and
then send her out.”

“Thank
you.”  Nathan nods and sees himself out.  Marsi offers me a quick smile on her
way out behind him. 

Everything
that 335 says next comes in a blur.  I can’t shake the feeling of betrayal. 
These people pretended they were doing me a favor.  Pretended to save me.  But
they
used
me.  They tried everything they could to
make me weaker--I could have died from what they did to me.  I’m a punching
bag.  A stupid experiment. 

I’m
angry.  I’m hurt.  I want to wrap my cold, bony fingers around Nathan’s neck. 
I wonder if Cornelius knew. 
He couldn’t have
.  I have to get out of
here.  I have to get out now, or I’ll hurt somebody.  I’m hurting them already.

“Your
head will probably hurt for another day or so, but besides that, you shouldn’t
have any problems from the operation.”  Suddenly, I’m jolted from the storm in
my mind. 

“Operation?” 
I have no idea what she’s talking about.  She nods to my neck and I follow her
gaze with my fingers.  There’s a bandage on my neck right where...  “A chip?”

“Yes. 
It’s not been assigned any clearances yet, so you’ll still have to be escorted
to restricted areas.  As to when the rest takes place, that’s up to your
superiors.  We just install them,” she says.  She’s detached again.  It’s all
just business for her.  Are we even human anymore?

“Okay,”
I mumble.

“Take
your time getting up.  I’ll be back to get you in a few minutes.”  I nod, and
she’s out the door.  I don’t move for what seems like an hour.  When I do move,
it’s slow, mechanical.  Lifeless. 

I
step into the hall to wait for 335.  There’s a group at the end of the hall
that I don’t bother to look at until I hear footsteps approaching.  When my
eyes finally make the lazy trip up at the person walking toward me, my heart
leaps inside my chest. 
Dylan
.  All at once, I’m relieved, and thrilled,
and scared.

“Are
you okay?” he asks me.

“Not
really.”  He just looks at me, but I don’t know what else to say.  I shrug.

He
keeps his hands planted behind his back, and I’m careful with my body language,
too.  I don’t even turn to face him.  We shouldn’t be talking right out in the
open like this, but I can’t just walk away. 

“Listen,”
he says, his voice grave, despite the pleasant look on his face.  How does he
do that?  “I think your chip has a tracker, so you can’t go sneaking around.”

Of
course
they can track me now. 

I’m
lost for words.  Nothing is coming.  I want to tell him everything I’ve just
learned, and how I feel.  But I tell him nothing.

“I’m
sorry you’re hurt.”  He looks my bruised face over.  “Don’t do anything
stupid.  Just stay the course.”

I
look up the hall one direction, and then the other.  I touch the bandage on my
neck with no real intent.

“I
have to go.”  Then he walks away.  It was dangerous for him to approach me like
that.  Kind of reckless, actually.  He’s never reckless.

I
can’t believe I didn’t say anything.  I feel like I haven’t seen him in ages,
and I had nothing to say.  I hate that he had to see me beat up, exhausted, and
fresh out of surgery.  And completely confused.  He always seems to find me
when I’m at my weakest, and I hate it.  I hate that when I feel at the point of
breaking, he has to be the one to reel me in, and calm me down.  Keep me from
doing something rash.

I’m
being tracked now, so I can’t mess up.  No exploring.  No more midnight trips
to occupy my sleepless mind.  And no more books to keep me company.  I’m
trapped in the routine of a drone soldier of Antius.

The
captain waits for me by the elevators. 

“Where’s
everybody else?” I ask.

“We’re
headed to catch up with them now.”  She extends a piece of bread and a bottle
of water, and I eat in the elevator.

On
the sixth floor, everyone else is already waiting in the biggest room I’ve seen
in the building.  The entire floor is open space with only a few closed off
areas on the far side.

There’s
padding on the floor, bright lights everywhere.  Tables are lined up along one
wall, and along the opposite wall are things I don’t really recognize.  Marsi
guides us to the tables and we all take seats on the side of the tables by the
wall so we’re all facing her.  Nathan has joined us, too.  He stands erect with
his hands behind his back.

“Weapons,”
he begins.  “Are our life force.  On duty, you will always have one, and it is
important that you know everything about it.”  Guns.  I’m probably the only one
of the pledges who has held one.

Titus
emerges from the far end of the space.  He holds a large crate, that he carries
as though it weighs nothing.  But when he puts it on the table it makes a loud
thud, and I feel the table shake.  Without instruction from anyone, he pulls
guns from the crate and sets one before each of us. 

“Thank
you, Titus.”  Nathan nods. 

Titus
tells us all about guns over the next couple of hours.  We’re taught to take
them apart, and put them together.  How to clean them, how to load them (though
they only let us practice with blanks).  After we’ve been over things several
times, we’re tested.

We
start with an empty gun and box of ammunition lying on the table in front of
us, and our hands in our laps.  Titus yells “go,” and we all fly into motion. 
I remove the empty clip and dismantle the gun.  I reassemble it, and fill the
clip with ten rounds, and slap it in.  I set the gun down and put my hands back
in my lap.  Titus nods to acknowledge my time, and continues timing the
others.  I am the first to finish.

They
run it again.  I win.  And again.  I win again.  Nathan smiles every time,
though I refuse to give him more than a sidelong glance.

Next
comes target practice.  It takes a few tries to get used to the kick and get my
bearings, but within ten minutes, I’m hitting the target every time.  As more
time passes, about fifty percent of my shots are within five inches of the
bulls-eye.  An hour later, I’m within three inches. 

“Nicely
done, Cori,” Nathan commends so loudly everyone stops to look.  I think Sean is
looking at me, but I’m not willing to verify.  Nathan keeps giving Sean reason
after reason to hate me more. 

In
the weeks that follow, we spend hours outside running and completing obstacle
courses.  In the training room, running drills, using weapons.  Every day, I
excel.  Every day, Nathan commends me in front of the others.  Every night,
Marsiana is friendlier, but sadder somehow.  Every session, I get special
attention from Titus. 

Every
day, I miss Alyssa and Dylan. 

I’m
the last one standing at the targets today and I’ve got two rounds left.  I
fire them back to back and they pass through the same hole, mere millimeters
from the center of the target.  It’s my best day so far. 

“You’re
a prodigy, you know.”  I turn and Nathan’s standing right behind me.  Too
close.  He’s much too close.  He takes another step toward me, and I’m suddenly
a stick on the ground getting stepped on--I snap.

“Why
are you doing this?  Is this a game?”

“Pardon
me, soldier?”  He raises his voice.  Finally a sign of the Nathan I know.

“Two
months ago, you wanted to rip my throat out for being a menace.  Now you’re
showing me off every chance you get.  That stupid dress, the race, the
shooting.”  I pause to catch my breath as heat rushes through my body.  “I’m
the fastest runner, the best shooter, a remarkable
specimen
, and now a
prodigy?  Why all the flattery?  If I’m such a delinquent, why bother?”  I lace
the last line with as much venom as my high-pitched voice can muster.

“You’re
performing well, how is that something I’ve done?”

“It’s
a game,” I yell.  “This stuff is child’s play and you know it.  So tell me
why.”  I realize everybody else has left the room.  We’re alone.

Nathan
takes a few steps away with his hand over his mouth.  He turns back toward me,
rubbing his fingers through the stubble on his chin.  “I have a theory about
you.” 

“What’s
that?” I ask, reluctantly, but I’m indignant still.

“Confidence,”
he tells me.  “A little confidence.  An affirmation that you’re something
impressive.  That you’re something special.” 

“Why?”

“To
motivate you.” 
Motivate me to what?

He
shifts his weight, stands straighter, and puts his hands behind his back.  The
casual tone is gone.  “Quite frankly, I’m giving you one last chance to become
valuable to me.  To be a compliant asset.  Otherwise,” he pauses.  “I’ll have
no need of you.” 

Another
threat. 

“You
want me to prove myself, then?” I ask, half-bitter, half-desperate to get it
right for once. 

“Precisely.”

“Fine. 
Then stop playing games and treat me like everybody else.”  I try to calm my
tone, but I’m not sure it’s working.  I need him to trust me. 

“Have
it your way.”

“Teamwork,”
Nathan says.  My morning stupor hasn’t quite worn off yet, nor has the
headache--I have headaches every morning now.  I barely slept last night since
I was worrying over Nathan’s threat.  I should have kept my mouth shut. 
“Teamwork is critical for survival.  It is a group of individuals working
toward a common goal.”

Everyone
looks at each other, assessing what we all correctly assume is about to be our team. 
By now, I’m used to these guys, but I don’t particularly like any of them. 
There’s Twig, Sean, and Billy.  There’s Jayce, a boy who makes up for what he
lacks in height with perfectly chiseled muscle tone.  Matt is the gangly one
who always has something to say when Nathan and Marsiana aren’t around.  Jensen
might as well be Sean and Billy, minus the extensive history.  He’s not a fan
of mine.  None of them are, I guess, not after the spectacle Nathan has made of
me.  Yet, I find myself feeling as though this band of boys is the closest
thing to a family I’ve had in over a decade. 

I
can’t let myself think that way.  They’d all be happy to see me fail.  I can’t
forget that. 

Captain
Marsiana looks displeased, more than normal.  She seems uncomfortable with this
exercise, and I wonder if she always is, or if this is new.  Something special
to demonstrate Nathan’s anger toward my outburst yesterday.