Inescapable (Talented Saga #7) (10 page)

I’m going to be
sick,
Cressa thought tearfully.
I’m going to suffocate in my own vomit, but at
least it will be over.

Then, just when she couldn’t imagine a
situation more nightmarish than the one she was living through, it
became exponentially worse. The chamber lid descended from above,
sealing her in alone with the agony. Spots danced in her line of
sight, creating bizarre constellations on the dome above. Cressa
heard a faint click as the two halves of the chamber locked
together. The sound echoed in her mind, taunting her. She would
never escape. She would never again know the world outside of the
plastic and pain. It was just her and the savagery, trapped
together forever.

Cressa’s lids fluttered several more times
before closing for good. Her mind couldn’t handle it. Another
torturous jolt of pain wracked every neuron at once, and then the
world turned black.

“
Welcome back, Cadet
Karmine,” Dr. Masterson’s cool voice said.

Cressa blinked rapidly until the doctor’s
face came into focus. The chamber lid was retracted again, and the
doctor was leaning over Cressa, wiping the goo from her forehead
with a warm cloth.

“
That did not take long at
all. I am very impressed by your body’s ability to adapt to the
foreign genetic material,” the doctor continued. She glanced up,
addressing someone, presumably Leslie, on the other side of the
room. “The smooth acceptance might be somewhat attributed to the
fact both of Cadet Karmine’s gifts were from the same source,
though only the telekinetic abilities were natural.”

Cressa turned her head to find Leslie
staring at the monitor on the wall, her hands clasped behind her
back.

“
Is that normal, ma’am?
For all of the abilities to come from the same source?” Leslie
asked.

Expecting the doctor to admonish Leslie for
asking questions without prompting, Cressa was surprised when Dr.
Masterson replied without hesitation. Then again, this was sort of
a lesson for Leslie, with Cressa as the live subject material.

“
No. It is very rare, in
fact. The source needs to be exceptionally powerful for the
abilities to pass successfully to a recipient, since some of the
potency will always be forfeited during the transference process.
Few sources have more than one talent, and even fewer have more
than one that is strong enough for our uses. So, most cadets
receive abilities from multiple donors.

“
Cadet Karmine is
fortunate that the source I used for her telekinetic abilities also
has strong, albeit created, light manipulating powers. Because of
degradation we’ve seen in the past when implanting created powers,
I added an enhancer to the formula to counteract the weakening of
the ability. In our current test subjects, this has proven quite
successful. I am very interested to see if this holds true with
Cadet Karmine.”

Cressa hated how the doctor and Leslie were
talking about her as though she weren’t present. It was bizarre,
and just plain rude. Nonetheless, Cressa was also grateful for the
new information. This was the most she’d learned about the
injections by far.

Until that moment, Cressa hadn’t known that
her newfound abilities came from another individual, who they were
calling the “source.” Truthfully, she hadn’t much considered where
they came from, simply assuming the abilities were generated in a
lab somewhere. The more Cressa thought about it, the ickier she
felt. Someone else’s “genetic material” was inside of her, someone
else’s DNA. Someone else’s blood was giving Cressa talents.

Who was her source? Where was her source?
How many sources were there? Where did they come from? What did
they get in return?

Although Cressa didn’t know the exact number
of students currently enrolled at the Institute, it was enough that
Dr. Masterson would need a large number of sources to provide for
them all. Did the Dame recruit those donors? Did they apply to
become sources for the Privileged, just as Cressa’s parents applied
for her admission?

Even if she found the nerve to ask, Cressa
doubted that Dr. Masterson would give her straight answers to the
new questions buzzing inside her head like annoying flies. She
wished Leslie would press the doctor for information, since her
inquiries would come across as educational instead of nosy. Leslie
either already knew all about the sources and how they were
selected, or she wasn’t curious, because the older girl didn’t
probe the topic.

“
How long was I out?”
Cressa asked, the first words she’d spoken since waking. Sliding
her arms free of the restraints, she rubbed her temples. The
pounding in her head was nearly gone, and she no longer felt sick
to her stomach. In fact, Cressa felt amazing, like she’d just woken
up from a restful night’s sleep after a week at the spa.

“
Less than an hour,” Dr.
Masterson told her. “Take it slowly now. Do you feel
dizzy?”

Cressa sat up, shaking her head in response.
Only an hour—that wasn’t bad at all. The first time, she’d
meandered in and out of consciousness for two days.

“
The Phase Two injection
is typically much easier for the recipient, though a one-hour
adjustment period is the fastest I have ever seen, by far. I must
say, it is quite extraordinary.” The doctor grabbed hold of
Cressa’s chin firmly, forcefully turning her face from right to
left and examining her with a critical eye. “Cadet Abbot, please
pull up the skeletal images of source 4709.” Dr. Masterson
continued to study Cressa, her grip becoming painful.

Cressa bit back a wince. As much as she
hated the feel of the doctor’s cold, dry fingers against her skin,
Cressa knew better than to argue or protest. She tried to relax
under the doctor’s penetrating gaze, though it proved quite
difficult. The scrutiny reminded her of the way ranchers examined
livestock at auction. Cressa fully expected Dr. Masterson to pry
her lips apart at any moment to count her teeth.

“
Ah, yes, very
good.
Very
good,”
Dr. Masterson said, eyes flicking between Cressa and the monitor
behind her. “You have the proper foundation for your source, should
the need ever arise. The bone structure is not identical, but close
enough to make the adjustments.” Then, as if realizing she’d spoken
too freely, the doctor pulled her hand back and brusquely changed
topics. “You are finished here, for now. You may get dressed, and
then Cadet Abbot will take you to the 2P dorm.”

Eager to leave med bay before Dr. Masterson
decided to make adjustments—whatever that meant—Cressa swung her
legs over the side of the table and slid to the floor. She changed
in record time, listening intently to the conversation between Dr.
Masterson and Leslie. Unfortunately, it wasn’t nearly as
informative as their earlier exchange.

“
I am a little surprised
that you are not more interested in fieldwork, Cadet Abbot,” Dr.
Masterson began, over the clinking of vials. Though Cressa could
only see silhouettes moving on the other side of the privacy
curtain, she assumed the doctor was straightening the refrigeration
unit.

“
I believe I can do more
good as a doctor, ma’am,” Leslie replied stiffly. “Unless you
disagree?”

“
No, no, not at all. It is
just that I happen to know your source for mental manipulation is
one of the most powerful we have. It would be a shame to not use
it.” The doctor paused. “You are showing remarkable proficiency
with the ability already. I am sure Cadet Karmine would agree.
Perhaps I misspoke; having that talent in the medical profession
could prove extremely beneficial, as you demonstrated
earlier.”

Cressa emerged from behind the curtain, once
again dressed in her regulation clothing.

“
I would like to see you
back in one week, Cadet Karmine. The more talents we implant, the
more frequently my techs will need to perform checkups. We will
also be tracking how your practical progress corresponds with the
levels of abilities in your system.”

“
Yes, ma’am,” Cressa
replied automatically.

“
Thank you for your time,
Doctor Masterson. Follow me, Cadet,” Leslie said, turning towards
the door without waiting for a response.

Cressa followed Leslie into the hallway of
the med bay, expecting to find it deserted. Instead, she saw Gregor
and another boy exiting a cubicle nearby. The boy’s golden hair was
a messy wreath around his head. His eyes were downcast, staring at
his feet as he trudged towards Leslie and Cressa.

“
Cadet Leonard, how are
you feeling? Much better, I trust?” Dr. Masterson asked, stepping
into the hallway behind the girls.

The boy standing beside Gregor glanced up,
his crystal-clear blue eyes expressionless. Cressa gasped audibly.
Not because of the boy’s vacant gaze, but because she recognized
the tanned face and patrician nose. She’d seen that face too many
times to count, plastered on e-boards, cinne posters, and
wallscreens. Cressa even had a collage of retro images of the boy
on the wall of her bedroom back home, as did most females between
the ages of eleven of twenty-five.

His name was Kev Leon. He’d been the most
famous young actor on the planet before his tragic death, only a
month before.

Talia

Vault, Isle of Exile

Four Days Before the Vote

As Victoria promised, a thick folder was
waiting on my bed when I returned to my cell. My curiosity piqued,
I grabbed the file and took it over to the small table in one
corner of my cell. Over my morning meal of greenish goo—supposedly
oatmeal made from kelp, sans oats—and seaweed bacon, I began
flipping through the pages.

Yocum sat in his usual chair in the opposite
corner, making little noncommittal grunts in response to the
rhetorical comments I posed every so often. After consuming as much
of the breakfast as my stomach could safely handle without
revolting, I stretched out on the bed and continued perusing the
dense file.

Several hours of arduous study later, my
vision was blurry, and the urge to rip out my hair was strong.
Somehow, I was only halfway through the exceptionally dull and
redundant reading material. So far, I’d learned that a town in
nowhere France had been experiencing frequent power outages in the
last several months. The electric company was baffled.

Or maybe they were happy; my French was
rusty.

Regardless, livestock in that same rural
town were also disappearing at a rapid rate. Farmers believed
thieves were making off with their animals during the night.
Authorities were unconcerned with the sudden rise in cattle
abductions, merely suggesting that the farmers breed the remaining
cows more frequently.

Like I said, painfully boring stuff.

“
I fail to see the point of
this,” I said aloud. “Why on earth would I care about any of this
nonsense? I mean, cow thievery? Is that even a real
crime?”

Yocum reluctantly looked up from his
communicator. Judging by his rapid thumb movements, he was playing
a game that had him engrossed.

“
A very serious one,
depending on the location,” he said in his stoic tone. “In rural
areas that are still heavily contaminated, edible meat and
drinkable milk are rare. Large-scale cow thefts could create a food
shortage.”

“
I guess,” I agreed
grudgingly. “But why does UNITED care? Shouldn’t they be more
worried about…well, anything? Like the lack of
real
food on the islands. Let me
tell you, plant-based meat is no substitute for the real deal. If
the Isle’s livestock was disappearing, then I could understand
Victoria’s interest. But why would she send me stuff about
this?”

Yocum shrugged and returned to his game.

“
Lot of help you are,” I
grumbled, flipping to the next document in the file.

It was yet another I-pub that Victoria had
printed out for me. This one was a newspaper article focused on one
of the farmers, Franz Duquesne, more than the actual thefts. A
familiar name jumped out at me immediately: Selby Masterson.

Where had I heard that name before?

“
Selby. Selby Masterson,” I
said aloud, trying to jog my own memory.

Nothing.

Maybe I’d read the name, not heard it
spoken? I stared at the two words, willing my brain to provide some
insight. I felt a tickle at the base of my skull. Yes, I had
definitely seen that name.

“
Do you know a Selby
Masterson?” I asked Yocum.