The first thing Mercy noticed was how young the woman looked. Her brown skin was smooth and unlined, her face bright and open with eagerness, and something Mercy could only call innocence. She wasn’t much older than Max or Octavia. In the holo, color was muted. Time had worn away at the file and degraded a few fine details. But given how old it was, the integrity was stunning.
The second thing Mercy noticed was that the woman looked familiar. Something in the angle of her jaw, the line of her profile when she ducked her head, tucking a strand of dark hair behind one ear. It struck a chord deep within Mercy.
Without thinking, she stepped forward, hand outstretched. She had an overpowering urge to try and touch the image, as if it was a living, breathing woman. She curled her fingers in, pulling her hand back. Her throat tightened inexplicably.
This girl had lived nearly three hundred years ago, and yet Mercy looked into her face and saw a ghost.
“She looks like you.”
Mercy didn't turn at Cannon's words, spoken softly beside her. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the holo.
“No.” She had to clear her throat. “She looks like my mother.”
Strange. This girl had been dead for centuries. Yet every time she moved it was mesmerizing. Every tilt of her head, the way her hair fell, the long, silky drape of it over one shoulder — all of it was so familiar Mercy felt transported. Only her eyes were different. Instead of the brilliant green Mercy knew, they were dark.
“It's not her,” Reaper said. The words were meant as both a warning and a reassurance, Mercy thought.
Cannon squeezed her arm. Of course, he would feel her longing and pain, seeing this image that looked so like her mother.
“I know.” Mercy cleared her throat again, folding her arms so she wouldn't be tempted to make a fool of herself and walk right into the holo. “It just caught me off guard.”
Over the years, she’d lost the image of her mother’s face. It had faded in her memory into a blurred version of itself, details far more lost to time than the degradation of this holo. Seeing this girl was like seeing a fresh image of her mother again. Unexpected, sad, and cherished all at once.
“I’d say this means you can definitely trace your ancestry right back to the first Queen,” Feria commented.
True. It wasn't something Mercy had ever wondered, but the resemblance was unmistakable.
“Fareena.” A man stepped into frame, addressing the girl. He was older, with white hair, and clean shaven. He wore some kind of uniform and held a datapad. Beside him hovered a medical drone with a tray of items, including several syringes. “I see you've read through all of the material and signed the agreement. But I just want to make one hundred percent sure you understand what's happening here today. You have agreed to become a test subject in a project we're conducting to further the capabilities of Talented soldiers. Correct?”
“Yes,” Fareena said, tucking her hair behind her ear nervously.
“If successful, you will be the first of several new units. Your abilities will be a unique subset of Talent currently without an equivalent. By default, you will occupy a place of authority, although you will still be answerable to the chain of command in the Ashir armed forces. However, you must understand there are no guarantees. There is a chance this won't work; a chance it will remove the Talent you currently possess, leaving you permanently head-blind. There is even a chance — a small one — that it could result in your death. Do you understand these risks as they have been outlined to you in the participation agreement?”
“I do.” Fareena's expression never changed. If anything, she looked even more eager.
“Do you understand what we will be attempting to do today?”
“You’re going to edit my genetic code and make my Talent more powerful.”
“That’s a highly simplistic and not entirely accurate summation, but I suppose given your basic education, it will suffice. One small correction: we are not making your Talent more powerful, but attempting to mutate it into an entirely new classification.”
“One that’s more powerful.”
The man’s mouth twitched. “Yes,” he said. “It will definitely be that.” He scrolled through something on the datapad. “I see here you also signed the non-disclosure agreement. I cannot stress enough the importance of following it. Consequences for failing to do so will be severe.”
“I understand, doctor.”
“Even should these experiments prove successful, you must not ever reveal what they entailed. To anyone.”
A hint of annoyance flashed across her face. “Yes, I know. Your paperwork stated all of this in detail.”
He lowered the datapad, and gazed at her with an expression full of superiority and condescension. “We just need to be sure you fully understand what you signed. A mistake that puts the entire experiment at risk would be unfortunate.”
“I’m not stupid. I read it. I signed it. Can we get on with this sometime today?”
“She is definitely related to you," Ghost said.
“Nice.” Mercy rolled her eyes at the faint chuckles and snickers from the others. "Yeah, yeah, so the temper runs in the family," she muttered.
In the holo, Fareena tugged uncomfortably at the medical gown she wore. She lay down on the bed, and a binding field snapped into place around her. She flinched, but settled quickly, as though her response had been due to nerves and not surprise. Fixing her stare above her, Fareena breathed slowly and evenly, her jaw tense. Whether anxious about what was about to happen, or uncomfortable at being restrained, Mercy couldn’t be sure. She definitely radiated determination.
“Test subject seven,” the doctor said as he moved to her side. The medical drone followed him, and he picked one of the syringes off the tray, scanning it with his datapad. “Fareena Dabiri, nineteen years of age, recorded as a telepath and telekinetic Talent, rating insignificant in both categories.”
Fareena’s nose wrinkled. “Is it really necessary to say that?” she asked.
“It is. We want clear records.” Unceremoniously, he jabbed her arm with the syringe. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of your status, you know. You might even be thankful.”
“Thankful.” She stared at him with something close to fury. “I can’t even register with a battle unit. My Talent is considered too trivial.”
Smiling, he placed the now empty syringe on the tray.
“Yes. That’s exactly what makes you perfect for this. We’ve found that notable Talents do not react well to the change. Less powerful Talents have yielded more positive results, and—” he paused, as though hunting for the right words. “—a normal human with no Talent at all has the most negative response.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Fareena asked.
“The subject did not survive. But don’t worry. Our analysis gives you a seventy-eight percent chance of success, the highest yet.” He patted her hand. “In a few weeks, you might be commanding multiple battle units. You could even be leading the entire Talented corp.”
Shifting restlessly, she frowned up at him. “Am I supposed to be feeling anything yet?”
He chuckled. “Oh, no. That was merely a prep treatment to put your mind into a dormant state. While this is a non-invasive procedure, we’ve found Talented patients to be unpredictable.”
“What? No one told me that.”
“Not to worry. It will feel like falling asleep. When you wake, you’ll be a different version of you.”
“Wait!”
“Sleep well, Fareena. In three, two, one.”
Fareena slumped, her eyes slipping shut.
“This guy’s bedside manner is worse than Doc’s,” Ghost said.
No one laughed. There was something deeply disturbing at the core of what they were seeing unfold. Especially to the pirates, who viewed children and women as the most precious members of their society, to be protected at all cost.
As the holo progressed, the doctor gave Fareena two more injections, making notations on his datapad after each one.
They were waiting for something spectacular to happen, but the rest of the session was completely mundane. Eventually, Fareena woke up. The attending doctor asked if she was experiencing any headaches or other side effects of the treatment. She answered the questions, and the session ended. The holo skipped forward. Twice more, Fareena came in and was treated in the same manner.
“I thought Talent needed to develop over time,” Mercy said. “Doc said Talented babies develop it in the womb, and the connection to their mother is vital to the process.”
“Maybe it's different for an adult who is already Talented,” Feria said thoughtfully. “Or they are doing this over time. For all we know, these sessions could be taking place over months or even years.”
That was true. Mercy studied Fareena, trying to discern any changes that would tell them how much time was passing, but each time she was in the same medical gown, in the same sterile room.
“We tried something similar after our Queen died,” Feria continued, “but the experiments were never successful. I'd love to know the specifics of exactly what they're doing.”
“It's all redacted," Ghost said, tapping his datapad. “The project notes have generalities, but the specifics have been left out or removed.”
“They didn't want anyone repeating the experiments,” Cannon said.
The holo skipped forward again. Now, Fareena sat in a different room. No medical drone, no bed. Just Fareena, the doctor they'd already seen, and another man. Fareena sat in a chair, dressed in regular clothing and looking both excited and nervous.
On the other side of a partition, the newcomer sat in an identical chair. He wore a military uniform. It was close enough to the Commonwealth Navy design that Mercy took a closer look.
“Is that…the crest of the royal family?” she asked.
“It is,” Reaper said. “But before they were the monarchy, they fought in the Ascension Wars. The Ashir had an active military long before the formation of the Commonwealth.”
Of course. And they'd won the war with Talented soldiers.
"Fareena,” the doctor said, “on the other side of this wall is a young solider by the name of Kallio Venturi. We would like you to attempt to form a connection with him.”
Fareena fidgeted. “My telepathic range has always been limited to line of sight. With people I already know.”
“Yes, we know.”
“I thought this was going to give me Talent beyond telepathy.”
“Let’s just start here and see what happens.”
She took a deep breath and nodded.
Kallio looked nearly as young as Fareena. Brown hair, pale skin, a handsome enough youth, but with the fresh faced look of someone barely out of training. His eyes were a distinctive, familiar blue.
“One of the original Killers,” Ghost said, glancing at Reaper. “Why would they choose someone so dangerous for her to connect with?”
“They’re trying to create a Queen in part to control soldiers like him,” Reaper answered. “They want to know if they’ve succeeded.”
No one else spoke. They watched as Fareena's brows drew together. A few seconds later, surprise and sheer joy had her bursting into laughter. She clapped her hands together. “I did it! It worked.”
“Excellent. Now, please describe what he feels like.”
“I…don’t understand the question.”
“It’s simple. You’re connected. What does his mind feel like?”
She hesitated. “He’s thinking about his unit. They’re being deployed while he’s here.”
“Not his thoughts.” The doctor snapped the words, impatient. “Each mind should have a distinctive feel for you. His, mine. What does his feel like?”
A small silence. Fareena’s joy from moments before dimmed. “I don’t know,” she said finally.
“Hmm.” He made a notation on the datapad.
Anxious, Fareena sat forward in her chair. “But it’s good, right? My telepathy is stronger.”
“We already have powerful telepaths.” The doctor nodded his head at Kallio. “Venturi, you may go. Fareena, we’ll need to schedule some tests.” It was clear from his tone that he was disappointed. The doctor turned, his posture dismissive.
The Killer stood up from his chair.
“No, wait. I know I’m more powerful.” Fareena leapt to her feet. “Look, see?” She lifted her arms in a frantic motion, and the chair she’d been sitting in rose from the floor. “I never could have lifted that before. This is a success. I’m a success.”
“I’m sorry, but it isn’t the result we’d hoped for.”
“No! Give me another chance.” The chair crashed to the floor. “His mind feels…it feels distant.” It was clear she was desperate, grasping at anything. “But I can still reach it.”
Mercy knew exactly what kind of answer the doctor was looking for. That warm glow Talented minds emitted, but in a Killer’s case, it was cold. The connection and feedback a queen’s mind sought.
In the holo, the doctor sighed. He turned back to her, his posture just as condescending as their first session together.
“Fareena, I’m truly sorry.” His voice radiated impatience, nothing like true empathy. “We knew from the beginning that there was a good chance this wouldn’t work out.”
“That’s not what you said.”
Kallio stepped between them on his way to the door, looking at neither of them, seeming oblivious or uncaring of the escalating emotional conflict.
Fareena’s hands clenched into fists. “You said there was a seventy-eight percent chance of success.”
“The odds were not in our favor, I’m afraid.”
“Try again.” The table in front of Fareena shook.
The doctor took a step back. “I’m afraid that’s not in the cards. The treatment has already taken you as far as it can—”
“Try again.”
The table rose into the air and smashed against the wall, missing the doctor by the smallest margin. He lost his superior attitude, flinching and cowering before he caught himself.
Fareena stalked toward him, and at the door, Kallio suddenly stopped. The Killer turned back into the room, and all of the hair rose along Mercy’s arms. Even in the faded coloring of the holo, she could see his eyes had gone icy blue.
“What’s happening?” Declan asked.
The holo was like watching half the story. But Mercy knew. Watching the change that came over Fareena and Kallio, she knew. “She’s claimed him. She’s a Queen, and she claimed him.”
In the playback, Fareena stopped right in front of the doctor. She didn’t look like that eager young girl anymore. Her eyes glinted, hard and predatory. Cold.
“Mine,” she said clearly. “He feels like he belongs to me.”
The doctor crumpled to the floor with no warning, no fanfare.
The holo abruptly skipped forward, and they were looking at a new room. Fareena was there, and so was Kallio. The doctor wasn’t. Instead, three strangers were with them. A woman and a man in military dress stood together, both older.
The third newcomer was positioned nearly off frame. He was to the left and slightly behind the others, barely visible.
“We’d like to put you with the Dragons, our most decorated company,” the woman said. “Do you think—” she gestured to Kallio “—you’ll be able to do this again?”
Fareena smiled. “Oh, yes. I’m quite sure.”
“Excellent. We’ll be sending you to the conflict on Bennet. We’ll call this a test run.” The woman gestured to the man they couldn’t see clearly. “This is Captain Mazur. He will accompany you as our representative. You’ll answer to him, you’ll be on his ship, and you will follow his orders.”
“That seems unnecessary,” Fareena complained, frowning.
The older man chuckled. “Ms. Dabiri. Whatever else you might be, you are a member of the Ashir military. You effectively signed yourself over to a period of service with us when you agreed to the experiments. And, while those experiments have proven successful, you are something of a wild card. Three doctors are dead.”
A glimpse of the girl they’d seen in the beginning shone through as Fareena’s head dropped, her shoulders hunching with guilt.
“You will accompany Captain Mazur, and you will follow his directive. He will report to us.”
Captain Mazur hadn’t moved. Mercy peered at him, trying to discern characteristics. They could only see his profile. He looked young, with a chiseled jaw and short fair hair. He wasn’t wearing a military uniform, but some kind of armor. She narrowed her eyes. There was something odd about it, about him.
“Vera, slow play to half speed.”
Playback slowed. Everyone else made small movements. The two soldiers, Kallio, Fareena. Only Captain Mazur remained perfectly still. Odd.
Wait. “Vera, replay from the beginning at half speed.”
“What is it?” Reaper asked.
“Watch. I’m almost certain he never blinks. Or breathes.”
Not once did his eyelashes flutter, and his chest never rose and fell that Mercy could see.
“Who is he?” she asked the room at large, even though no one here could answer. “What is he?”
“He stands like a soldier,” Reaper said.
Vera’s voice spoke into the silence, so unexpected Mercy gave a start. “Casimir Aleksandr Mazur is the prototype subject bio-unit, designation “Arcadian”, the first successful full body prosthesis, developed as a counter to Talented units.”
“Arcadian?”
“Any successful subject of the bio-unit program would forfeit their previous genetics and histories. Therefore, they were given a new designation, Arcadian, as scientists found that dissociation had a negative impact on their ability to perform.”
“I’ve never heard of them,” Mercy said, frowning. She thought back to the books in Lilith’s library. None of them had mentioned bio-units. There had been plenty of experimentation with bio-enhancements, but this seemed like something well beyond that.
“Vera, please explain what you mean when you say a full body prosthesis.”
“The unit’s physical form is entirely manufactured from a combination of both organic and inorganic material, created by the Zajak Biotech Corporation. A human consciousness is transplanted to the prosthesis. The original intention was for medical use, as replacement bodies for those limited by extreme physical disability which could not be treated by genetic or existing biotech solutions. However, the cost of such an endeavor was calculated as prohibitive, and the project was reassigned as a military application to offset this. Successful transplants were expected to serve in the Ashir military, and the bodies were made with this service in mind.”
“What does that mean?” Mercy asked.
“The Arcadians were enhanced beyond human capabilities.”
“In what specific ways?”
“That information is unavailable.”
“As in it doesn’t exist in the archives, or as in we don’t have clearance to see it?”
“I cannot answer that inquiry.”
Of course not, Mercy thought. “How many successful transplants were there?”
“There is only one record of a completely successful transplant.”
“Let me guess,” Declan said. “This guy?”
“That is correct.”
“You said completely successful,” Cannon said. “What happened to the partially successful subjects?”
“There was only one partially successful test subject. Vera Yelena Vasiliev.”
“Vera. That’s your name as well.”
“It is.”
Mercy stared at the projection of the AI, and her very human seeming features. A chill went through her. Was Vera something more than just an AI?
What she wouldn’t give for Sebastian to be here right now.
Feria tapped a finger to her lips in thought. “There are records of the use of full body prosthesis in the past, but it was found the psychological effects were often severe, and it required transplanting the actual human brain fully into the prosthesis. It was rarely successful, and scientists abandoned it when genetic manipulation and cloning could offer the replacement, repair, or enhancement of almost any part of the human body at a much lower cost and risk.”
“Apparently not everyone abandoned that research,” Cannon said. “Vera, how much more is there to this holo?”
“There are no more holo scenes. However, there are is a timeline related to Fareena Dabiri.”
“Let’s see it.”
The holo faded and a new one took its place, this time a list of redacted notes. As they read through them, the room felt colder.
Fareena was moved to the front lines of the Ascension Wars. She took command of multiple units, eventually being connected with some two hundred and fifty thousand Talented. Success after success followed them. The tide of the war turned.
Until a trap saw the loss of three capital ships and fifty thousand of Fareena’s soldiers.
The notes here were sparse and often redacted, but contained words like unstable, contained, and the ominous phrase retire from service.
“I mean, she went crazy right?” Feria said. “That’s what we’re all thinking.”
“What did they expect?” Mercy asked. “Fifty thousand lost at once.” She couldn’t begin to imagine the pain of such a terrible experience. Even now, when a Talented person connected to her died, Mercy felt it. When the battle with Veritas and the Alpha Queen had taken place, the pain of those losses had been unbearable.
She could not imagine losing so many.
The entries continued like a ledger of this woman’s life. Mercy sucked in a breath. “She recovered enough to rejoin the war. But then the notes just stop.”
“So it would seem,” Cannon said. He arched a brow, casting his gaze up as though looking for Vera. “Is there any more of this?”
“Further information on Fareena Dabiri is located in the sections I have already highlighted for you.”
“Were there others?” Mercy asked. “Other Queens?”
“Yes.” More areas of the archive lit up.
“This is impossible,” Mercy said. “We just don’t have time to go through it all. It could take weeks. So much is either buried in data crystals or in hard copy.” These scientists had loved their hard copy. So tedious and difficult to scan through.
“We’ve come this far,” Cannon said. “We already know more than we did before. We have a face and a name. We even know a bit of who she was before she became…” He trailed off.
“Crazy?” Feria repeated.
Mercy rubbed her forehead. “All right,” she said. Even to her own ears, her voice sounded weary. “Let’s—”
A mental scream ripped across her thoughts. Mercy staggered, nearly falling to her knees. Reaper caught her, his hands on her arms. He was talking to her, but she couldn’t hear him, could hear nothing over the voice screaming through her head. It seemed to stretch on forever, the pain of it a raw wound on her nerves, blocking out everything else. She tried bolstering her shields, but she couldn’t concentrate. Her eyes squeezed shut, she curled against Reaper with her hands pressed to her ears, even knowing they could do nothing.
At last, the scream faded.
“Mercy?” Reaper spoke her name aloud, his voice cautious. He was being careful, unsure of the state of her mind.
“S—Sebastian.” She stumbled over the name. “He’s in so much pain, Reaper.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “I’ve never felt anything like it, not even when Willem tortured Atrea. I think it’s my bond as his Queen. I don’t know how. I can’t feel anyone else. Not Treon, not Max. I guess for some reason, even this place can’t block my claim to him.”
His hands tightened on her arms. He focused on the important piece. “That was Sebastian?”
“He’s here. I can feel my bond with him again. And…” Tears sprang to her eyes. “I think he’s dying.”