Degrees of Wrong (28 page)

“A mutation? A mutation isn’t good, is it? It means something isn’t working properly.”

I shook my head. “That’s what it means
most
of the time. In this case, this particular mutation prohibits the virus from infiltrating the host cells. I’ve tried to expose their cells to the virus, but it can’t penetrate.”

“Why is that?”

I paused, wondering if I should give him the detailed version, or the plain English version. I went with the plain one. “Normally, the virus attacks the very white blood cells that the body sends to destroy it. It infiltrates the cell, and once inside, it starts to copy its genetic information onto it and reproduce, causing the virus to spread. I found that both Marie’s and Marcel’s cells lack the receptor the virus needs to infiltrate it.”

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.”

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.

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.

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.”

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.”

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.”

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. 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 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.