Degrees of Wrong

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Degrees of Wrong Page 24

by Anna Scarlett


  He thought for a moment. “The virus is deflected? What happens to it?”

  I shrugged. “The virus can’t survive without a host.”

  “What about the boy? Have you tested her son?”

  “Yes, but the key is having two doses of the mutation. If only one parent has

  the mutation, it becomes ineffective. Because Philippe inherited only one dose, as his father didn’t have it, he wasn’t protected from the illness.”

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  Nicoli nodded, and I was thankful he could follow. “Why was he able to

  hold on for so long? He still survived longer than anyone else who contracted it.

  That must mean something.”

  “Yes. Since he inherited one dose of the mutation, theoretically half of his

  cells would be resistant to the virus. It would delay the spread of it substantially.

  The other half, though, would be vulnerable, and the infected cells would—”

  “Reproduce and kill him. So, what’s the solution?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I’ve got to find a way to give everyone the advantage that mutation offers. I need to think on it some more.”

  To my surprise, he seemed relieved that I had no answer. “I’m sure you’ll

  find it.”

  “Yes. I believe I just might.” I turned my nose up at him as I strode to the

  door, but flashed him a smile before I left. His laughter chased after me down the hall.

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  Chapter Thirteen

  I tiptoed from Dr. Folsom’s quarters, careful not to wake her. Today marked

  the third day she couldn’t keep sips of water down, and I was getting concerned.

  Cadets with the same symptoms appeared at the lab in regular intervals, filling

  the beds until I started to quarantine them to their rooms. I called it the

  stowaway virus because we most likely picked it up in the Maldives—and

  because it had already outstayed its welcome. And, after repeat exposure to it, I was just biding my time. Which meant Nicoli—who insisted on invading my

  personal space at every opportunity—would get it too.

  I stalked into the lab, brooding with the thought.

  The tall, pale cadet with the inverted muscles waited for me, heaved over the

  trash receptacle. I told him to sit on the examination seat.

  “I feel like I’m rotting on the inside,” he groaned as I put on my gloves and

  checked his vitals, avoiding his vomit breath.

  “Looks like the same bug everyone else has.” I pulled a pack of pills from my

  pocket and handed him one. “I need you to take this. It will help support your

  immune system while you’re fighting it. You need to go straight to your

  quarters. Do you have a roommate?”

  He nodded.

  “He’s quarantined as well. Do you see those bottles over there with the clear

  pink liquid in them? They’re concentrated electrolytes. Sip them. Take four, and

  give two to your roommate.” I hoped it would get him through without

  necessitating an IV—I didn’t have any left.

  Degrees of Wrong

  He passed Nicoli at the door, almost too weak to salute his captain.

  Nicoli didn’t return my smile. “Dr. Morgan, I need you to come with me.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Please come with me,” he reiterated impassively.

  I took off my gloves and tossed them in the trash. Nicoli had already left. I

  hurried out the door and tried to keep up with him as he entered the elevator.

  “Admiral Rudd’s office,” he instructed it before I was even inside.

  “Did you mean for me to follow you?” I asked, agitated.

  His jaw tensed, then relaxed. An apology softened his face. “I’m sorry, love.

  I…” He raked his hand through his hair. “What was wrong with that cadet?”

  I grinned. “The only thing I’ve ruled out is pregnancy.”

  He snorted.

  “That was funny,” I insisted, elbowing him playfully.

  “I’m not in a funny mood right now, love.”

  The doors opened, and I followed him into the admiral’s office, wondering

  what I had done. The admiral’s lips formed a tight line, out of which he tried to shape a smile of greeting.

  “Here she is,” Nicoli told him curtly.

  The admiral motioned for me to sit on his couch, where he joined me. “Did

  Nicoli tell you why he’s brought you here?”

  I shook my head, as Nicoli said, “This is your show, James, not mine.”

  Nicoli wouldn’t sit. He stood there with his arms crossed, glaring at the

  admiral. I’d never heard him call the admiral by his given name before.

  Admiral Rudd turned to me. “Dr. Morgan, a situation has arisen, and we

  need your assistance. One of the UOC’s prison compounds asked us to make a

  medical call on one of their inmates. Since Dr. Folsom isn’t well enough to go, I was going to ask if you could go instead.”

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  I let out the breath I didn’t realize I’d held. I preferred this scenario—asking

  me a favor—to all the other ones my mind raced with. “Of course I wouldn’t

  mind.” I patted his hand more for myself than for him.

  “No,” Nicoli ground out. “That’s not how this is going to happen. If she goes, she goes informed.”

  “Nicoli, that’s all she needs to know. Anything else is classified.”

  “To hell with classified.”

  “Nicoli, you are allowing your feelings for Dr. Morgan to obstruct your

  judgment—”

  “Don’t even say it, James. Not when we both know where you were last

  night, despite the risk you were taking in being discovered.”

  “That is my personal business, Nicoli.”

  Nicoli pointed to me. “She is my personal business. So, as we are discussing our personal business, this would be a very convenient time for me to relay to her some of my family history, wouldn’t you agree, James?”

  I felt as if I weren’t in the room. My head snapped back and forth with the

  conversation, almost suffocating from the mounting tension. I had never seen

  these men at odds before, and I felt like the wedge pushing them apart—but over

  what?

  The admiral grunted in defeat. “I can’t protect you if you do this.”

  “I’m not asking you to.”

  Admiral Rudd stood and strode to his desk, leaning back in his big chair,

  hands rested behind his head, as if proving he’d extracted himself from the

  situation.

  Nicoli sat down next to me and took my hands into his, his face full of

  torment. “First, I want to tell you that I don’t want you to go. But if you decide to go, after making an informed decision, then I’m going with you.”

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  This almost made me feel better, until the admiral said, “No, Nicoli. Out of

  the question. It’s too dangerous—”

  Nicoli wrenched his gaze toward the older man. “My personal business,” he

  reiterated. “Even if I didn’t have a specific, professional responsibility toward her…you wouldn’t let Dr. Folsom go without you either.”

  The admiral raised his eyes to the ceiling and rocked in his chair.

  Nicoli turned back to me, his expression softened into agony again. His

  thumb traced small circles on my hand, sending tingles everywhere. “The

  admiral gave
you the fairytale version of the circumstances, love. The fact of the matter is, this is a dangerous situation for you to be in, and I’ll be damned if

  you’re going into it blindfolded.”

  I nodded, waited for him to continue.

  “Everything about this is suspicious,” he said. “For one, this is the highest

  security prison on the planet—that’s why it’s a thousand meters under the

  ocean’s surface. The UN houses its most acute offenders there, most of them

  waiting simply to be executed. The reason they’ve asked for our assistance is that the residing physician passed away in his sleep two days ago. He was a healthy,

  middle-aged man with no documented health problems. The circumstances

  surrounding his death are questionable, at best.”

  “We are the contingency plan for this particular prison,” the admiral

  interjected. “The Bellator, like all other UOC vessels, is set on a continuous, pre-plotted course around the oceans. Part of our responsibility is to provide support to UN and UOC installations within our designated range. It’s not uncommon

  for us to provide medical or transport services to installations inside our

  assigned course. Nicoli is forgetting that under normal circumstances this would

  be a routine assistance.”

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  Nicoli scowled. “And you are choosing to overlook the fact that this is not

  normal circumstances, James.” He turned back to me, his grip tightening on my

  hands. “The most concerning part of the whole damn thing is that the particular

  prisoner who suddenly requires medical attention is Ares Petropoulos. He’s a

  Greek revolutionary, linked with—if not the leader of—the same faction that

  engineered the Black Death. At present, the UN considers him the most

  dangerous individual alive. He’s being held there to await his trial.”

  I swallowed, trying to follow amid the realization that this man was most

  likely, at least indirectly, responsible for my parents’ deaths. I understood now why Nicoli resisted— fought—my helping out. “He’s awaiting trial for this? For his…role in the spread of it?”

  Nicoli shook his head, his eyes hard. “No, love. He’s being tried for the

  attempted assassination of my father.”

  I gasped. He scooted closer to me and squeezed my hands. I looked around

  him, at the admiral. “You want me to help this man? You want me to give him medical treatment, knowing all of this?” Fairytale version, indeed.

  He made a wry face. “Our hands are tied, Dr. Morgan. He can’t go to trial

  unless he has a clean bill of health going into the courtroom. We can’t produce a clean bill of health for him if he doesn’t see a doctor. If he doesn’t see a doctor and he dies before he stands trial, his followers will advertise it as murder and retaliate with a vengeance. No public place in the world will be safe.”

  “When is his trial?” I asked.

  “In two days,” the admiral drawled.

  “We could request another UOC vessel to assist them,” Nicoli said.

  “That would only raise suspicions, Nicoli. Our entire staff of officers is aware

  of the request for assistance. They’ll begin to question why we didn’t send Dr.

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  Morgan. Then they might question her function here altogether. We’d be risking

  her protection if we didn’t send her.”

  Nicoli growled. I could see that my options had dwindled to nonexistent.

  And I could see why I might have preferred the fairytale version of the story.

  “What are his symptoms?” I whispered.

  “He’s conveniently complaining of chest pains. If he dies and doesn’t stand

  trial…” The admiral trailed off.

  Chest pains. The highest medical priority besides bleeding out. It required

  immediate attention. I absorbed this for a moment, mulling over the

  consequences of his not standing trial. I turned to Nicoli to confirm what I

  already knew. “You think the prison doctor was murdered.” His answer was all

  over his face.

  I swallowed, attempting to push down the bile. Still, there was no choice.

  “He can’t get away with it, Nicoli. The world has to see he was given a fair trial, that the UN dealt with him judiciously. If anything about it can be construed as

  underhanded, it will swell the ranks of his followers.”

  “No one will listen to them,” he insisted. I could tell he’d already considered

  my reasoning but would simply not agree to it.

  “He has to stand trial, Nicoli. He has to stand trial for what he tried to do to

  your father.”

  “No,” he forced out. “Damn it. That’s not why I told you about my father. I

  told you because I wanted you to understand how dangerous this could be, that

  this man will do anything to get what he wants. I don’t want you to do this. And

  I especially don’t want you to do this for me.”

  “Who else would I do it for?” I asked softly.

  He stared at me for a long time, his expression pained, his eyes burning with

  an emotion I wouldn’t dare name. He stood up, pulling me with him, cursing

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  under his breath. “Let’s get this over with. I’ll prepare the transport pod. I’ll get Frank to assemble a team.”

  “No.” I grabbed his arm as he turned. “You’re not going.”

  He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead in his hand. “We already

  discussed this, Elyse. If you go, I go.”

  “This could be a trap. You said it yourself. Everything about it is suspicious.

  He already tried to kill your father. He might be trying to get to you…”

  “This isn’t open for discussion. Unless you tell me you’ve changed your

  mind, you need to meet me in the transport hall in fifteen minutes.”

  He effortlessly pulled away from what I’d considered my best vise grip and

  stalked out the door, still cursing under his breath.

  I turned to the admiral, my eyes welling with un-spilt tears. “What can I

  do?” I pleaded.

  He stood up. “Nothing. Lois wouldn’t be going without me, either.”

  Cold and quiet fed off each other in the transport pod. The other pods

  maneuvered ahead of us through the currents, their cabins small, illuminated

  specks in the vast ocean.

  I glanced at Nicoli, who stared ahead with unseeing eyes. He had chosen a

  small pod for the two of us, to brief me privately on the way there. I wasn’t sure if it was the truth, or if he was just catering to Lt. Horan’s sensitive feelings.

  He spoke, startling me. “This man is wicked, Elyse. And highly intelligent. I

  don’t want you speaking to him, other than what is absolutely, medically

  necessary. I’ll be with you at all times.”

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  “No,” I told him, and he snapped his head toward me. I held up my hand to

  stop his argument. “He has patient-doctor privileges which would be violated if

  you were to stay in the room.”

  “I don’t give a damn about his privileges.”

  “The UN does.”

  “He’s a prisoner. His patient-doctor privilege is—”

  “Still intact,” I finished. “I looked into it before we left.” I was looking for a way to keep Nicoli from going altogether but would take th
is over nothing. I

  knew he’d be angry, but I could deal with that. I could not deal with his being injured or— I couldn’t even think it.

  He scowled. I lifted my chin, ready to fight if need be.

  “Why do you care about this man?”

  “It’s not him that I care about. You will stay out of the room during the examination, Nicoli.”

  His face softened when he realized my meaning. “I can take care of myself,

  love.”

  “So can I.”

  The prison came into view, and I took deep, concentrated breaths to keep

  from shaking. Beneath us, tiny dots of light outlined a square, multilevel

  building. The six other pods ventured ahead of us, descending to land on the

  roof. Before they touched down, the roof opened, drawing them into the top

  level. Nicoli eased us down as well, and as we dropped I watched the doors of

  the ceiling slide shut, enclosing us into the structure. We parked in the center of the other pods, and when the water receded, the teams began to disperse to the

  grated metal floor.

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  “We’ll wait for everyone else,” Nicoli said. “Let them get ready first. Then

  we’ll follow.”

  I watched in apprehension as thirty men organized into a single-minded

  company with Lt. Horan calling out instructions in front. He nodded to Nicoli,

  who retracted the glass shield and lifted me from the pod. I followed him across

  the cavernous transport room.

  The synchronized troops assembled around us in a deafening echo, creating

  a pocket in their ranks just big enough for the two of us. We moved as one to the door, which opened automatically with the commotion of us.

  We were forced to bottleneck into the room, which turned out to be a large

  elevator. Despite its burdensome cargo, it descended us into the core of the

  structure without so much as a creak. When the doors opened, Nicoli motioned

  for me to stay behind him. The thunder of heavy boots plodded in front of us

  and behind us, and I felt the reverberation of our herd move through the hall.

  Ahead of us I heard voices. Nicoli extended his hand back for me, and when

  I grasped it, he pulled me to the front of the ranks. Before we broke the line he dropped my hand, but I knew I should still follow.

 

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