Rebel's Consort - Phoenix Book 1 Read online

  This produced the toxin-free food source?

  Skepticism gave way to curiosity. He gripped Bits tighter and lowered his free hand above the fluid’s surface. Warmth, but no sensation. He dipped in a finger.

  You wear the woman’s blood. The voice, or more like a compilation of voices, rang loud and harsh in Trace’s mind. Rage and condemnation rolled into a brutal assault on the nerves behind his eyeballs. He winced with pain under the onslaught and yanked his hand back.

  Woman? Analena?

  Quickly, he placed Bits on the floor. “Time to go find Hena for a little while.”

  Trace turned back, stared, and then risked dipping his hand into the fluid again.

  “She was injured. I’ve been working to help her.”

  Injured. A pause. The organisms will heal her.

  It, they, knew of the nanites?

  “There was a lot of damage. Some critical.”

  She lives. You nurture her, protect her?

  Hmm, interesting concepts. “Yes. Do you speak to her, like you speak with the little girl?”

  The young? No. Our communication with the woman is unique. She is unique. Our first contact.

  “The first human that you’ve had contact with?”

  No. The first of your race we’ve chosen to connect with in the many millennia we’ve existed.

  Trace blew out a slow breath. He’d never believed the human race was the only sentient life-form in the world, but he’d never considered that another species might live side-by-side without choosing to contact them.

  On a hunch, he tried to deliver his next question in his mind. Why not…before? Why Analena?

  The woman is unique.

  Yeah, got that.

  Her organisms are primitive, a base level. We utilized them to connect with her, to establish communication.

  The food source, do you eradicate the toxins?

  Another long pause. The woman needs the sustenance to survive, to nurture the young.

  Nurture again. Evidently a concept that spanned races, even if the concept of names didn’t seem to be something this Entity felt the need to embrace.

  And the water?

  The woman needs us, we provide.

  Trace considered what the nanites had contributed to the connection between this Entity and Analena, healing and a baseline for communication. Communication that obviously expanded to the children. Because he was certain if Analena felt the Entity was safe enough for Bits, then the other children partook of interaction as well.

  The base organism is healing Analena. But her children are still injured. The organism rejects interaction with their DNA.

  The woman is unique.

  A frustrated snort was all Trace allowed himself. He couldn’t debate Analena’s status as one in a million, if only from his perspective, but that acknowledgment didn’t unravel the riddles of how to develop an eye for Gar, to fix Bits’s spine, or to help Hena’s leg. To interact with this fluid was incredible, yet he wanted more. He wanted answers and fixes. This…Entity could have the key.

  The fluid surged further up his arm. The genetic makeup of the woman is a random factor. The other young do not have her predisposition.

  So there is nothing that can be done?

  We can intercede with the base organism. Control its compliance in the interaction.

  Trace held his breath. How?

  You will take us with you.

  Chapter 10

  Trace charged at the first scream. With a quick leap to the tabletop, he pinned Analena down with his body to keep the stitches in place as she thrashed.

  “Angel.” He straddled her, his knees by her hips, his boots hooked over her shins, and his right arm pinning her left shoulder as his hand cupped her face to get her to look at him. “You’re safe. You’re going to make a bloody mess of yourself again if you don’t stop.”

  Eyes wide, pupils dilated in panic, and perspiration dotting her upper lip, she tried to move her head.

  “It’s all right.” Bits’s voice broke through the haze as she patted Analena’s good shoulder.

  She blinked and tried to swivel her head in Bits’s direction.

  Seeing some sanity return to her expression, Trace released his hold on her cheek and sat up, still kneeling over her. She glanced at Bits’s hand and back up to him with more calm than he would have expected. Hands raised, he eased back. “Your stitches and your arm can’t take much movement.”

  At her small nod of acknowledgement, he rolled to the floor.

  Every child had come running at the scream, as with each of the successive episodes throughout the past grueling days. At least this time, Analena remained awake instead of lapsing back into unconsciousness.

  Pushing through them, he grabbed for his scanner and ran a quick check over her leg and abdominal wounds. By the time he got to her shoulder and arm, the kids had reassured themselves she wasn’t in mortal danger and settled back to their previous activities.

  Aaron picked up Bits and held her so she could give Analena a kiss. Then, with a quick nod to Trace, he headed over to join the others.

  Analena swallowed hard, closed her eyes, and glanced back at him. “How long have—”

  He lifted the tarp and checked the restraints around her shoulder and wrist. “Four days.”

  “Four?”

  Her mouth hung open as if she wanted to say something, but she nodded at the tarp instead. “I’d like to see it.”

  “If you promise to stay still.” He moved the fabric from the frame. She winced, inadvertently pulling at the restraints. Pressing down on her shoulder, he leaned in close. “I was serious about being still. It’s healing itself, as long as you don’t move.”

  The fire in her eyes signaled resistance, and he leaned closer and pressed a finger to her lips.

  “They worry about you, so please don’t tug out of the restraints. If not because I ask as your doctor, then because they need to see your shining example. You scared them shitless.”

  Her gaze swept over the group across the cave and back to him. A passing sign of puzzlement gave way to awareness, capitulation, and regret.

  “I’d take off the restraints, but you need to rest. The natural inclination is to move and roll, so I’d like for you to remain another twelve hours this way.” He disassembled the frame, packed the items away on another table, and then leaned his elbows beside her head.

  “Hena is going to bring you something to eat.”

  At the shake of her head, he cupped her cheek in his palm. “I’m not talking to hear myself speak. You need food. These kids want to help you. I told them these were things they could do.”

  Leaning into his hand, she pursed her lips there and closed her eyes. “Fine.”

  “Good.” He bent forward and kissed her forehead. Her inhale of surprise registered, but he turned away. Hena had arrived with water and a bowl of a mealy composition that would no doubt rile Analena further. It was hard to make the seaweed, kelp, and vitamin mix taste anything other than how it looked and smelled, foul.

  He opted for an exit while he could.

  ***

  Trace’s hand hovered over the fluid. Awe and a touch of reticence fed his hesitation. His test confirmed the Entity could provide a link for compatibility between Gar and the nanites. However, the specifics were still too vague for his peace of mind.

  The mere touch of the cool substance initiated a flow of gold sparkle over his hand and up his wrist.

  The woman’s organisms have adapted to the young’s tissue, they said.

  No doubt registered in the Entity’s statement. He wished he could develop that kind of certainty. Yes, Gar’s DNA has responded. Why do you call Analena the woman and the others, even Hena, the young?

  The woman has reached physical and sexual maturity. She is viable for mating and reproduction of your species.

  Shit. Trace forced the air from his lungs. Talk about all-knowing. And Hena?

  The female young has not reached the nec
essary stage of development. Her counterpart will wait.

  What the—Does Analena have a counterpart?

  The fluid pulsed up his arm in a thin stream, curling around his forearm, over his elbow and beneath his t-shirt. With a silent curse, he felt it cover the brand on his bicep.

  You are a compatible match.

  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 DNA’s reaction.

  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 DNA and consider it their host. They will perform the reintegration into the host as well and reside there as with the woman.

  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 DNA, my blood isn’t either. Too many people have died trying that. You can’t—”

  Darker clouds mirrored in his expression. “I’m not going to put your kids at risk and I understand you’re in charge here.”