Temper

by Beck Nicholas

  Then she sighs. “To be honest, I don’t know that much more than you.”

  “But you’re the doctor.”

  “Yes. I have medical training. More than anyone here, and I like to think I have a good grasp of basic biology. But you have to understand that in the years since the Upheaval, there aren’t such things as medical schools anymore.”

  I’m listening but not much is making sense. “I let you operate on me.”

  “Don’t worry, it’s not as though I picked up a scalpel and declared myself a doctor. I did have training.”

  “Then how?”

  “My father and his before him were surgeons. He taught me and had collected every resource he could. However, most resources and experts who survived went to work for the Company.”

  “Why?”

  “For the same reason there was support for the Pelican. It’s not like your ancestors were taken against their will. Even the Lifers were originally given a choice. The Company was greeted by survivors as the best hope of saving humanity should the aliens return.”

  “You believe it?”

  She picks up a pen and passes it hand to hand. A nervous gesture? The green robes are hiding so much I don’t know if this is part of it. She doesn’t answer for so long I begin to think she’s not going to.

  “Do you think there were aliens?” I ask again.

  I don’t miss the way her eyes flick toward the door. She sighs. “I think it’s entirely possible.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  Her smile is tight. “It’s the only one you’re going to get.”

  I stand, knocking the chair over in my haste. “I should have known not to bother coming here. This was never about telling me the truth. All you care about is feeding me enough lies and evasive answers that I stop asking questions.”

  “You’re not giving me a chance.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because I know your brain is a ticking time bomb created by the Company, and unless Asher can manage a miracle I’m your only shot at making sure it doesn’t blow up in your face or in your head or at all.” By the time she finishes, she’s panting.

  I blink. “I don’t think I’ve heard you shout before.”

  She pours a glass of water and takes a sip. “My father always told me that a raised voice drowns out the message of the speaker.”

  “I don’t know. I heard you loud and clear.”

  “At least let me finish. Then make up your mind.”

  I pick up the chair and sit. I tell myself it’s because I need to make sure the green robes don’t realize how much I know about the other ship and the murder cover up, but I’m not sure it isn’t because I’ve believed in Charley so completely that I’m struggling to turn the instinct off.

  “Okay, you trained under your dad and then you joined the green robes instead of the Company and started experimenting on brains.”

  The pen is in her hands again. “While that’s an extreme simplification of what happened, it’s not entirely untrue.”

  “Glad that’s sorted. What did you find out?”

  “Not enough. At least, not until we were gifted the opportunity to work with a brain showing something closer to an end result of where the Company has been taking their research.”

  “Me?”

  I think she tries to offer a kind smile. “You. We were interested in the wiping of your memories. You were by no means the first example of that we’d seen, and our solution for the block worked well.”

  I shudder at the memory of the pain. “You could say that.”

  “You regained your memories.”

  She says it as though that’s all that matters. The pain in my head since the procedure makes me doubt it worked as well as she believes, but arguing might result in her wanting to have a look … with a scalpel.

  “Anyway,” she continues. “When we examined you, we found so much more than we expected.”

  “You mean the healing and stuff?”

  “Many of your physical advantages are a result of breeding. Those selected to travel, for want of a better word, must have been tested extensively.”

  She goes on a little more about the kinds of tests they might have used. She’s presenting her theories as educated guesses, but all I can think of are the files Kaih and I saw in another part of this very building. Those are the results of the tests she’s talking about and they were more than required to fill the Pelican.

  Thinking about the other ship, I want to leave now. There might be others like us, ignorant and waiting for an eventual landing date that will never come. Time presses on me. What if the Company was spooked by our defection? They might have already released the other ship, or worse.

  “But these are all only guesses?” I ask, unable to resist forcing the issue. Let there be no doubt that she didn’t have the opportunity to tell me the truth. She’ll never be able to say I didn’t ask.

  She hesitates, and her eyes don’t quite meet mine. I swear the whole world stops, waiting for her answer. When it comes it’s barely a whisper. “Yes.”

  It shouldn’t surprise me, but it’s a blow.

  I duck my head and rub at the back of my neck. “What else did you find?”

  “When we operated, you hadn’t been away from the ship long enough to trigger the rage problems we see today. What we did find was nano-bots spread through your system, and I believe these are involved in the absorption of a serum that kept your brain chemistry in balance. Being away from the ship and regular doses affected this delicate balance resulting in swelling a particular area of the brain.”

  “I’m confused.”

  Her arms fold. “I warned you that this is complicated, and I’m not going to make you an expert in five minutes.”

  “Try.”

  She sighs and plucks a piece of paper off a pile and puts the pen in her hand to use, making a quick sketch. “I’m no artist but different parts of the brain serve different functions.”

  “That much I know.”

  She rings one section. “Violence comes from the more primitive parts of the brain, deep in the limbic system. Swelling that can be directed here presses on those areas which would otherwise regulate aggressive behaviors.”

  “Swelling?”

  She chews the end of the pen. “More accurately, growth.”

  “Of?”

  She stands and walks to the small painting I noticed before. I wonder if it is something she brought with her or if it was a part of the room and she took a liking to it. She adjusts it, though it was already straight. When she looks at me again I can see the weariness in her despite the distance separating us. “Knowing doesn’t always help.”

  “Tell me.”

  “You have a tumor. The Company serum kept it in check.”

  Growth? “Like cancer?”

  She nods.

  “I don’t believe you.” I hope she doesn’t hear the squeak of fear in my rising voice. “If what you’re saying is true, then through whatever they gave us on the ship the Company has found a way to cure cancer.”

  She hesitates and then nods again.

  My breath is heavy in my lungs, sticking to the walls of my chest. The ache in my head blurs my vision and stings my eyes. “No. You’re wrong.”

  “This is a lot to take in. I think we should probably—”

  “Stop talking down to me. I’m no child.” I grip the edge of the table so hard I can’t feel my fingers. “You’re wrong with your fancy theory and your backyard training. You know nothing.”

  “Sam—”

  “No.” I still can’t feel my fingers. That’s normal isn’t it? It’s not some result of the thing growing in my head. Is it? Rubbing my palms, I try to get some perspective. I’m thinking like she’s right, but she can’t be. There’s nothing growing in my head.

  Across the table, Charley watches me in silence. Pitying silence.

  I’ll wipe the pity from her
face. “If they’ve cured cancer, why was that how most of the people died on board the ship?”

  She blinks and straightens.

  “That fails your precious little theory, doesn’t it?”

  Her brows gather and the pen in her hand twirls around and around. “Cancer is a complicated beast.”

  “Sounds like you’re making excuses to me.”

  She stands, paces the small room. “There is little use for the elderly on board a ship.” She makes another turn as she thinks aloud. “It would be easy enough to switch the serum protecting the patient to a placebo, then nature would take its course. It would require careful food distribution, assuming that’s the vehicle to have the serum enter the system but it wouldn’t be difficult under the tight regulations of shipboard life.”

  “This isn’t some interesting problem you’ve been given. You’re talking about people’s lives, effectively killing off a generation if they’re lucky to live to old age. My grandparents, their parents.” My voice cracks. “People who read their grandsons bird books because they said there was more magic in the peregrine falcon than any fairy tale.”

  “I didn’t think.”

  “No, you’re thinking too much. As though you have some proof but you don’t, not really. You are making this up as you go along.”

  “Aren’t we all?” Her smile is so sad, it’s worse than if she’d yelled.

  I slump back into the chair. “What makes you so sure?”

  “We were able to take an image of your brain.”

  “When?”

  Her gaze drops to the pen. “When you were unconscious.”

  “Yesterday?”

  I don’t need her confirmation. It had to have been yesterday. Since then they must have compared the tests they ran when I was Blank to their latest scan. She’s sure because she’s seen the growth and the effect on it being off the ship.

  I should see it. My mouth opens. And I know that if I ask, she’ll show me the results of the scan. But if she shows me and it’s there …

  I swallow fear. I’ve faced worse than this. “Show me.”

  “Are you sure? This is a lot to take in.”

  “Please.” The request comes out strangled. I focus on breathing. In and out. Repeat. Count backwards from one hundred in twos. Breathe some more. Anything to keep ahold of the shred of control I have left.

  None of this is Charley’s fault.

  But if she hadn’t gone poking about in my brain without my permission I’d be happily ignorant right now.

  She places a folder on the table in front of me. I rest my hand on it, stilling the shaking and look up at her. “Being careful and keeping your distance, I notice.”

  She brushes back hair where not a strand is out of place. “This is a sensitive issue.”

  “And I’m one of the loose cannons.”

  “I’m not afraid of you, Samuai.”

  I laugh. She’s saying one thing but the brittle line of her shoulders and the way she keeps looking to the door, hoping for backup, says another. And it’s not her words that are right. Knowing she didn’t put this in my head isn’t helping keep down the anger rising inside me against her. “You should be.”

  I think she holds the edge of the table to stop from backing away at the venom in my voice. “This thing in your head doesn’t have to define you,” she says soothingly. “If Asher is successful on her Company raid, we’ll have the serum; therefore, the ability to reduce the tumor in a matter of days.”

  “You guess.”

  She frowns.

  “What if the serum stuff only stops it growing? If your theory is even correct, you have no basis to claim it will shrink the growth back to a size where I’m making rational decisions again, unaffected by the thing in my head.”

  “We can hope.”

  “It’s not enough.” I trace the smooth shape of the back of my skull, my fingers pressing as hard as I can stand. “I want it out.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “All of it. The growth, the nano-shit. All of it.” She’s shaking her head, but I don’t care. “You operated on my brain before, you can do it again.” As I speak, I stand, and I’m walking around the table. “I know it’s weird actually having permission before you do one of your little experiments, but this time I’ll hand you the blade myself. Cut it out. Now.”

  She stands and backs away as I come toward her. “Calm down.”

  The chair she was sitting on is between us. Correction, was between us. I’m glad it breaks when it hits the wall. “I’ve had enough of calm.”

  “Samuai …”

  My hand’s on her throat, and she’s not as heavy as I would have thought. I can hold her against the wall fine. The anger inside me burns brighter. This is what I should have done all along, the whole talking thing is overrated. “Cut it out.”

  Her eyes are so big I think they might burst. “I would if I could, I swear.” Her breath is shaky, her hands grabbing at mine. “Please …”

  Something about the word. It takes me back, to a boy I cared about like a brother. He begged for his life, too. I let go and stumble back to the seat. My head rests in my hands so much heavier than before. “I wouldn’t have hurt you.”

  “I know,” she says.

  I don’t examine the words too closely, in case I can tell they’re a lie. I stand on shaking legs, hardly daring to meet her gaze. Shame shouldn’t taste so familiar. “I have to go.”

  Her hand reaches out toward me and then drops to her side. “I’m here for you if you need someone to talk to.”

  If I didn’t know that she lied and schemed and put Kaih in prison for something she didn’t do, I’d almost believe the pain in Charley’s eyes is for me.

  But I know better.

  Chapter Thirteen

  [Asher]

  The medics arrive in moments and treat me right there in the middle of the hallway. Eyes closed, I listen as they bustle around me. I’m lying where I fell, still half in Davyd’s arms. Why doesn’t he put me on the floor? It must be a play for something. He’s probably trying to show his subordinates he has a caring side. With each breath I catch a hint of his scent. Funny, but I thought being Company now he’d smell different. The familiarity of it takes me back to the ship.

  For a second I’m back in the training rooms giving everything to beat him after he dared me with the promise of a favor should I win. I needed to win to find out what happened to my brother and Samuai. I was no match for his strength and speed and experience but losing wasn’t an option. He cornered me at the top of the game space, smirking, so sure he’d won. But with nowhere left to run, I launched at him in a desperate lunge to take us both down. We fell. Arm in arm, bodies entwined, and landed hard. I remember neither of us moved for a moment.

  This is the same, but impossibly different.

  I couldn’t trust him then and I can’t now. But I can’t pretend it isn’t a little nice to have someone holding me. Even if it’s all a lie.

  “Asher, we need you to breathe into this tube.” A stranger’s voice and then pain as plastic is shoved deep into my nose; a stream of oxygen follows. Their hands are cold and impersonal, angling my head up as they twist the tube, then a sucking sound echoing in my head. Another hand on the wrist without the bandage, feeling my pulse. “I think she’s stabilized.”

  “Get a wheelchair.” The order comes from Davyd, and someone scurries to obey.

  There’s the squeak of a wheel then he lifts me. There’s no pause or strain, but I’m lowered again so gently it brings a lump to my throat. I can’t take it after the violence of the interrogation. I hope my face shows nothing of the emotion swelling inside me.

  “Take her back to her room.” Davyd barks the order. “I’ll catch up.”

  “Yes, sir.” The medic’s voice tells me she’s young and female.

  I think I feel the change in the air as Davyd walks away. It’s probably from the medics’ relief that one o
f their superiors have left. It isn’t because the world lacks a certain energy when he’s not around. Such a thing would make me more in tune with him than I could stand to be.

  The medic pushes the chair along the hallways, back through the central space, and while I’m aware of us moving, I let myself relax into the act of being physically overwhelmed by what happened in the interrogation room.

  It’s a rare luxury to rest my eyes by choice and retain consciousness, rather than fight a drug determined to pull me under.

  I know when Davyd returns, not only because there’s a second set of steps, but the medic’s relaxed stroll becomes a purposeful stride, and the chair swerves a fraction each time she must turn to check to make sure she’s not doing something wrong. Or to simply check him out. Davyd isn’t exactly hard on the eyes.

  So despite keeping my eyes closed, I’m not surprised when he speaks. “Thanks,” he says. “I’ll take the prisoner from here.”

  The medic lingers. “Is that all you need me for, sir?”

  That’s an invitation if I ever heard one. I bet she’s playing with her hair, touching his arm, making up an excuse to lean in close. Stupid, stupid girl. I’m tempted to sneak a peek at her, see if my guess is right, but I don’t think I’d be able to stop myself from gagging if I am.

  “Nothing else … but thank you.”

  I know that tone. He’ll be giving her a smile that says she’s impressed him, and he’ll be going out of his way to bump into her again real soon. I saw it on the ship. I saw it at camp. He can charm a stone wall when he wants to. Could he play this girl anymore? I almost, almost feel sorry for her. But then I remember she’s Company and therefore enemy, and I hope he breaks her heart.

  She leaves and we’re alone. Apart from the other officers who go about their business.

  He stops the chair, and I let my eyes drift open, as though I’m coming back to consciousness. We’re in the middle of the hallway, not far from the door to Rael and my room. I look behind. The tubes from my nose lead to a small tank attached to the back of the wheelchair.

  “We have about thirty seconds before this will look suspicious.” As he speaks he’s studying the left wheel as though it’s jammed. His eyes dart my way. “What did you notice?”