by Ann Bakshis
“I don’t know what else to tell you, Trea, but that’s what I saw.”
I pick up the tablet, switching it back on. The main screen pops up and I choose the file labeled “Research”. There are three folders: “Antaeans”, “Quarum”, and “Quantum Stream”. I select “Antaeans” and find thirty subfolders. After reading through the names, I tap on a file labeled “Current Generation”. Vier and Piran sidle up next to me, looking over my shoulder. Neither ask how I obtained the information.
Phase 1: Sperm is bathed in Quarum for six months before being implanted into egg.
Phase 2: Embryos are subjected to hourly submersion in Quarum from beginning gestation to six months. At the start of seventh month of gestation, fetuses are submersed into Quarum every five hours until full term.
Phase 3: Quantum Stream is graphed onto embryos at second month of gestation.
Phase 4: Military training and conditioning until eighteen years of age.
“What you are looking for?” Vier asks.
“I’m not sure. I was hoping to find something on why they’re so interested in those embryos.”
“Try the folder that says ‘Next Generation’,” Piran suggests.
I go back a screen and select that file. The phases are the same, with one exception.
Phase 5: Final Stage – Embryos held in cold storage under research lab will be subjected to the final stage. At the age of one, the Antaeans will be given a Sanar injection.
“What’s Sanar?”
I have a feeling I may know, but when I respond to Vier, I lie. “No idea.”
He takes the tablet from me, and goes back several screens until he’s at the file labeled “Final Stage”.
“Data deleted by ECP on 22 December year 174” flashes across the screen.
“Someone doesn’t want anyone to see the files,” Vier says, handing it back to me.
“Now we’ll never know what it is.” Piran stands, looking fully recovered. “Come on, Vier, let’s tackle some more training.”
Vier smiles, stands up, and they leave down the path they came from. I wait several minutes to make sure they’re a good distance away, then go back to the Antaean Class file and open the item labeled “Construction”. Scrolling through the document, I come across a section outlining the final stage.
At age one, the Antaeans will be given a Sanar injection, which will bind the Quarum to the cells, preventing any injury or damage at the cellular level by a Levin gun or Quantum device.
That’s why Vladim wants me. I was given the Sanar injection when I shouldn’t have been. But by who?
I find it a little too coincidental that the files for the Final Stage were deleted the day after I turned one year old. What did those files contain? Why did ECP delete them? Who is ECP? Going back to the main screen, I select the folder labeled “Personnel”. A search tab comes up at the top of an alphabetical list. I type in ECP and hit search. It takes a minute for the tablet to look through all names, then displays the one it matches: Eunice Cecilia Pike.
My birth mother.
But why? And, why did it take eighteen years to take effect?
Vier and Piran return just as the sun is setting. Lehen wasn’t too happy with me taking the tablet as this prevented him from reconfiguring the monitors, but it only takes him a few minutes to accomplish it. The four of us sit on the floor watching the monitors: one displaying the security footage streaming live into Tartarus from Tyre and Acheron, and the other displaying the Assessment Chamber, which is currently empty.
Tyre is quiet. Very few people are walking about the city, and there are even fewer in the Boroughs. Acheron is a different story. The Tyrean army has replaced the Hostem who were attempting to navigate the lake, though no one has been able to get past the detonators. When one does ignite, thirty seconds later another emerges from under the water to take its place. It doesn’t look like anyone from the platform has attempted to leave, which limits the army’s access to all of Acheron’s assets.
I begin to realize when Ares said that not all of those who had invaded Acheron were Hostem, she meant they’d never been original inhabitants of Tartarus. Rena and her brother Mercer were from Tartarus, so how many left Tartarus with them? Where did they collect the others? The Wasteland? A lot of angry people would’ve been easily convinced to take on Vladim and the Acheron High Ruler if given enough motivation.
But if the Tyrean Army is working with the Hostem in Acheron, who is really orchestrating the invasion? Was it really Rena’s idea to attack Hatchery Nine? Or Vladim’s? What about the uprising here? The kidnapping of Grainne, Mair, and Thane? And what’s being done to recover them?
Too many questions flood my mind. I set my food tray down, as my appetite is gone.
“Why aren’t they being more aggressive with the interrogations?” Piran shouts.
“We need to get back in there,” Lehen says, placing his tray in the trash.
A knock on the door causes us to panic. I say “coming!” as I walk slowly toward the door, while Vier and Lehen turn off the monitors and Piran cleans up the remnants of our meal. Once again, I open it to see Bevan standing on the other side.
“What do you want?” I say coolly, seething inside.
“I wanted to see how Piran managed today. Can I come in?”
I bar the door with my body, preventing him from seeing inside. “He’s fine.”
“I have someone with me.” Bevan steps aside, allowing Ford to approach.
My demeanor softens a bit. Ford protested Piran’s release.
“I want to talk to you, Trea. To all of you,” he says, a pained expression on his face.
I hesitate, but Piran comes up behind me and suggests we let them in. I step away in a huff and plop myself down on my bed. Bevan closes the door behind him while Ford takes a seat on the bunk next to me.
“I’ve been doing a little research and experimenting,” Ford begins, sweat building on his face. “With the proper equipment or surgery, I can enhance your Antaean abilities with the Quantum Stream.”
“Why the hell would we want to do that?” Vier spits out. “We’ve already been banished from the city, why would you want to make us more powerful? Unless, of course, you have an ulterior motive like everyone else I’ve ever met.”
“No,” Ford answers, looking a little offended. “I was just thinking that if you’re going to help get the children back, it wouldn’t hurt if you were all better equipped.”
“No thanks, doc, I’ve had enough modifications as it is,” Lehen answers, gesturing to the plate in his chest and metal strips in his legs.
“True, but are you able to use the stream effectively?”
“I didn’t ask to be made this way in the first place!” Lehen shouts. “I’m not some weapon you can just modify until you get it right. Go fuck off.” He storms out the door, into a gentle rain that has begun to fall.
Ford looks pleadingly at Vier and myself, but neither of us speaks.
“Let me know if you change your mind,” Ford says, heading towards the door, with Bevan right behind.
We wait ten minutes after their departure to turn the monitors back on. Vier goes searching for Lehen, while Piran and I settle in for the night.
What kind of enhancements does Ford have in mind? Would he be able to replicate the stream onto my left arm? Why am I even thinking about it? Why would I want to mutilate myself further? Lehen’s right, none of us asked to be made this way, so why should we allow someone to take it one step further?
A phrase from my battle conditioning pushes through the fog in my head: Antaeans are created for the safety of the country. They must sacrifice themselves for the better of humanity.
I’m not too keen on humanity right now and doubt the Antaeans are the answer for everything.
CHAPTER 11
I toss and turn for hours. Vier and Lehen return sometime around midnight. Vier checks on Piran before approaching my bed.
“You have a visitor,” he whispers to
me, pointing towards the door.
I roll my eyes, climb out of bed, and go outside. Bevan is sitting on the wooden bench by the door. “You need to listen to Ford.”
“Says the man who isn’t an Antaean.”
“Look, I’m serious. We don’t know what type of arsenal Vladim has managed to create with his army. They’re able to come into the area without being detected until it’s too late. We need to be prepared for the worst. Tartarus needs you.”
“Then Ares shouldn’t have sent us away.”
“Caitrin and I have been talking. We can get you in to see Iscariot.”
I sit down next to him as he has caught my attention.
“But, it’s on condition.”
“You still want Ford to hack us up? What the hell is wrong with everyone?”
“Vier’s and Lehen’s enhancements are already underway, in the hope they’ll decide to do it. Theirs is cosmetic. Yours is more problematic.”
“Isn’t anyone talking?” I ask, to change part of the topic.
“No. Iscariot has even requested to speak with you during his interrogations, but Ares refuses.”
They must be holding Iscariot separate from the others as his questioning hasn’t been done in the Assessment Chamber. Otherwise we would’ve seen it.
“Where are they holding him?”
“Like I’m going to tell you,” Bevan says, with a mirthless chuckle.
“I won’t do it. You’re just going to have to hope the Tyrean Army doesn’t drop bombs on you.”
I get up to go back inside, but Bevan wants to have the last word. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
I slam the door behind me, waking Piran, but he settles down into his bed and falls back to sleep. Vier and Lehen don’t ask any questions as I settle myself under my blanket. I know what they would say. I wonder how they would feel if they knew their enhancements were already being crafted.
Is getting in to see Iscariot worth the risk? If Bevan only talked to Caitrin about it, does Braxton know? How I wish Quin and Jagger were here.
Sleep doesn’t come for me. Just before the sun rises, I change my clothes and head out for a run. I do five laps around the lake, then back to the cottage. No one is there when I enter, but several empty breakfast trays tell me they’re up. I grab a tray and sit on the bunk just opposite the monitor displaying the security footage. The scenes are the same as the night before, only now with daylight. I doubt we’re actually seeing a live feed from the cities. They probably stopped transmitting days ago.
I put my empty tray in the trash and go into the washroom to shower. A stack of towels and toiletries sit on a cart by the sinks, so I grab one of each, go to the last stall, turn the water on, strip down, and shower as quickly as possible. Wrapping the towel around myself, I work on the knots in my hair, which take a few minutes to get out. I forgot to grab a change of clothes on the way in, so I cautiously step out into the hall and head over to my bunk.
“Why do you want to see her?” I hear whispered from the other side of the fireplace.
“I already told you why.”
“Tell me again, Iscariot. Why do you want to see Trea?”
Clutching my clothes, I go around to the second display. Caitrin sits on one side of the table, and on the other side a tall muscular man, maybe in his mid-twenties, with thick black hair down to his ears stares at her.
“This can’t be a coincidence,” I say out loud.
“Just get her for me, bitch,” Iscariot spits at Caitrin.
Bevan steps beside him and lands a right hook on his jaw.
“Now, Iscariot, let’s try this again. Why do you want to see Trea?”
The prisoner’s hands are immobilized, so he wipes the blood trickling from his mouth on his shoulder. “She’s the only one I’ll talk to. No one else, you got it? If you want to see any of those brats alive again, you’ll bring her to me.”
The transmission changes to show an empty room.
How long have they known we’ve been watching? I don’t like being manipulated, but it worked.
Rage builds. My arm brightens as the Quantum Stream ignites. I put on my clothes, leaving the towel on the floor before heading out to locate Vier, Lehen, and Piran. It doesn’t take me long. The closer I get to the lake, the louder the sounds of splashing water become.
“Hey, we were looking for you,” Lehen says, bobbing up and down in the small wake.
“I need to talk to you.”
“What’s up?” Vier chimes in.
I tell them what I saw on the monitor, as well as my conversation with Bevan the night before, and tell them I feel it was deliberately done.
“Don’t these people ever give up?” Lehen asks getting out of the water in his underwear.
“We need to find out what Iscariot knows. I think the whole uprising was just a ruse to get the children, but I need him to confirm it.”
“You’re not actually considering it, are you?” Vier asks, joining us.
“Yes, I am.”
“You can’t. You’ll have played right into their hands. They’ll know they can manipulate you to do whatever they want.”
“I know, Lehen, but their kids. Their fate has to be different than ours.”
“Why is this so important to you? Why do any of these people matter?”
“Because…I think my mother wanted it this way. She designed me for a reason and I have to believe it’s to stop all this violence and deceit.”
I divulge my secret about the final stage.
“What do you think Iscariot will tell you, if anything?” Vier asks.
“Why he took the kids. That’s the only real question I want answered. If I know why, everything else can be figured out.”
Piran steps out of the water and extends his hand to me. “What do you need us to do?”
I place my hand in his. “Trust me.”
Bevan is waiting by the door when we return. The others go inside while I stay behind.
“I don’t like being manipulated,” I say, half snarling.
“You call it manipulation. I call it encouragement.”
I slap him across the face, but he doesn’t retaliate. He just looks at me, no sympathy on his face, just pride. This is not the Bevan I met back at the Dormitories. I wonder what’s caused him to change.
“So, what next?” I ask, crossing my arms.
“Ford will be out here tonight. We’ll take you to the cottage across the lane where he’ll work on your arm and hands.”
“No nice, sterile environment for me, huh?”
“Meg, don’t take it that way.”
“Don’t you dare call me that,” I shout, pointing my finger in his face. “You don’t get to call me that any more.”
“He can’t risk taking you into the city.”
“How do you plan on getting us in there?”
“Us?”
“You heard me. Vier, Lehen, and Piran. They go or you can forget everything.”
A vein bulges from his neck from his rising anger. I smile inside, happy to see I’m making him miserable.
“Fine,” he replies through gritted teeth. “We’ll be back close to midnight.”
He stomps off down the lane towards the guards, while I slip back into the house.
We stopped watching the monitors hours ago now that we know our footage is being controlled by Tartarus. Bevan knocks on the door just after ten. He’s brought the equipment Ford needs and is getting the cottage ready.
“How are you getting all of this past the guards?” Lehen asks.
“They think Piran has taken a turn for the worse, so Ford needs to come out here and tend to him. The only time he has available is at night.”
“That doesn’t explain you.”
“I don’t need to explain myself,” he responds, defensively.
“I don’t trust him,” Vier says after Bevan leaves. “Not sure why you do, Trea.”
“I don’t,” I whisper to myself.
Ford a
rrives just after midnight with one of his medics. Lehen goes with me to the cottage, but leaves once I’m inside.
The layout is the same as the one we’re staying in, with the exception of a hole in the thatched roof, and lack of beds. A gurney has been assembled next to the fireplace hearth. I stand by the door, ready to bolt, but my feet won’t move. Instruments that would be welcomed in a torture chamber are placed onto a tray next to the gurney. A pump with liquid dripping down into a thin line hangs above the floor.
“Trea, we’re ready for you,” the medic says, placing her hand on my arm.
I look over at her, afraid of what I’ve agreed to.
I didn’t really agree to this, though. They tricked me. Why am I allowing this to happen?
I know I’ll heal, that’s not what I’m afraid of. What if something goes wrong? What if he unleashes the stream all through my body? Will I explode? Will I die? How is he so confident this will work?
“Trea,” Ford says quietly from his place by the table, “we can wait until you’re ready. It doesn’t have to be now.”
His words are comforting, but from the way Bevan made it sound, it had to be tonight and no other time.
I take a deep breath, let go of the door handle I’d been clinging to, and step over to the gurney. The medic removes my top, leaving me in my under-garments. Since the stream he needs to move is in my back, I have to lay on my stomach, my face poking out of a hole in the table. Additional extensions are added to the sides so I can place my arms along my side comfortably.
“For your own safety, Trea, I’m going to give you a sedative. It’ll knock you out for several hours, perhaps longer than the actual procedure.”
A lump forms in my throat as the needle penetrates my shoulder. The floor below me slowly swirls around, dropping away, and I fall through it.
As I begin to regain consciousness, my body feels heavy, weighted down. I try to move my head, but I can’t. My eyes won’t open either, causing me to panic.