Wild-born (28 page)

“Any idea what his decision is?” I asked nervously.

“I would hate to spoil the surprise,” Dr. Kellogg said simply, and left the room.

I gave the morning up as a bad job and shook Alia awake.

Alia was delighted to discover that we had the whole day to ourselves. At Dr. Kellogg’s instruction, the guards who delivered our meals no longer entered our room, but instead simply left the cart in the airlock for us, which meant Alia could spend the entire day without fear of human contact.

That didn’t keep her from falling into one of her long silences shortly after breakfast, though. I already knew that sitting silently was Alia’s way of steadying and recharging her emotions. When she was in one of her moods, it was always best to just let her be, so I sat beside her and quietly flipped through some of the magazines Dr. Kellogg had brought for me.

After a little over an hour, I suddenly heard Alia’s voice in my head say quietly,
“I miss Cindy.”

I looked up from my magazine and noticed that Alia had come out of her spell. I squeezed her hand and said quietly, “I miss her too, Alia.”

“Do you think she’s okay?”

“I’m sure she is,” I lied, touching my forehead to hers, “and you’ll see her again soon.”

Alia hugged me tightly, and then jumped off the bed, all smiles. She wasn’t about to waste any more of her precious day off being upset. We spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon playing with her new toys and cracking each other up with silly jokes and tickles. I was surprised to see Alia acting so normal, but I guessed her silent time had done the trick.

Dr. Kellogg came for me just as Alia had curled up on the bed for her afternoon nap, and I decided to chance it and leave her there.

Dr. Kellogg pushed my wheelchair into a spacious office not far from Lab-C. There was a large oak desk at the far end of the room. In the middle of the office was a wide, rectangular table lined with comfortable-looking chairs on both sides. Unlike most of the facility, the walls here were painted light brown, and had framed pictures hanging on them. There were even some potted plants in two corners. But what surprised me most was that Dr. Otis was not the only one there. The head researcher was sitting at his big desk, but there were also twelve other researchers sitting at the table. Also, curiously, there were no military guards present.

All thirteen heads turned toward me as Dr. Kellogg wheeled me up close to Dr. Otis’s desk. Seeing how nervous I was, Dr. Otis stood up and introduced me to the other doctors, telling me their names and fields of study, which included physics, chemistry, genetics and neurobiology, to name a few. I had met many of the doctors already, but I learned that this was the core group of researchers studying psionics here. Dr. Denman, the neurobiologist, was present too, and once again he just glowered at me.

“Now, Adrian,” began Dr. Otis once the introductions were over, “Dr. Kellogg has told me of your willingness to cooperate with our study program in exchange for some limited authority over Alia Gifford’s treatment at this research center.”

“Yes, sir,” I said as crisply as I could manage in my drained condition. I chose “sir” over “doctor,” hoping it would make me sound even more sincere.

Dr. Otis continued in his businesslike tone, “Dr. Kellogg has assured me that we can trust you, and my impression of your attitude so far has been equally favorable.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Some of us,” said Dr. Otis, glancing at Dr. Denman, “are against what I am going to do, but I have convinced our military counterpart to waive the control band protocol for you in the corridors, as well as give you limited security clearance within Level 10. Alia will remain, for the time being, your ward, provided you both behave and Dr. Kellogg is sufficiently convinced that it is in Alia’s best interests that you continue to be her caregiver. Do you understand these terms?”

“Yes, sir,” I said earnestly. Dr. Otis liked his long words, but I understood the general gist of his speech.

“You understand that this is a conditional permission?”

“Yes. Yes I do,” I said, and added a moment late, “sir.”

“Very well,” said Dr. Otis, pulling out his white remote control and pushing some buttons. “I expect to see you at our meetings once Alia’s testing begins. Welcome aboard the team, Dr. Howell.”

The rods in my control bands retracted, so I stood up from my wheelchair and bowed. Most of the doctors laughed and clapped good-naturedly, and I breathed a sigh of relief as Dr. Otis placed a red plastic card in my hand. It was labeled “PRC-A Level 10 Limited Security Access E: Adrian Howell / P-47.”

“Alia’s testing will begin in three days,” said Dr. Otis. “Dr. Kellogg will teach you how to use the card. Would you like to say anything before we finish?”

“Just th—thank you,” I stammered. It wasn’t easy speaking to a large group of white-coats, even though they were smiling. They were still my captors, after all. But I did have something to ask for Alia, so I steadied my voice and said, “I’m sorry, Dr. Otis, but there is one thing I’d like to request.”

“Already?” asked Dr. Otis, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s about Alia,” I said carefully. “She’s a healer and a telepath. She’s not dangerous at all, and without her telepathy she can’t even talk.”

“Yes, of course,” said Dr. Otis, nodding. “I will speak to Central Control about her security protocol, and I’m sure they will agree.”

I thanked Dr. Otis again several times before Dr. Kellogg led me out of the office, leaving the wheelchair behind.

“Hold the card up to the scanners next to the doors,” explained Dr. Kellogg as we walked back down the corridor. “It will open your living quarters and give you access to all minimum-security areas on Level 10, including the doctors’ lounge and dining hall.”

“There’s no scanner on the inside of the bedroom,” I said.

“Yes, but all you have to do is raise your voice and request that the door be opened.”

“So I’m still being monitored?”

“Of course,” said Dr. Kellogg. “All day, every day.”

I frowned, but Dr. Kellogg chuckled and said, “You are one of only a handful of psionics to ever be given a security card here. And in record time, too. Don’t worry. They do trust you.”

Dr. Kellogg stopped walking and turned to me, saying, “And to prove it, I’m going to leave you here to find your own way back. I have business elsewhere at the moment. You are welcome to go exploring if you wish, but I think you should probably return to your room before Alia wakes up.”

Dr. Kellogg headed down another corridor and disappeared. I was a bit curious about the rest of Level 10, but I agreed with Dr. Kellogg’s warning about Alia, who might wake at any moment. I didn’t want her to cry on her special day off.

I had just started walking back toward Alia’s room when I felt a bony hand grab my shoulder from behind. I turned my head, and found myself looking up into Dr. Denman’s severe hawk-like eyes. I tried to pull myself free, but for such an old man, Dr. Denman was strong. His grip on my shoulder was firm and he easily pinned me against the corridor wall. I couldn’t move at all, and I didn’t dare use my power on him. Though no longer draining me, the control bands were still locked around my wrists.

Dr. Denman looked at me with disgust etched all over his wrinkly old face, saying in a harsh, dry voice, “Dr. Kellogg is very impressed with your attitude. As is Dr. Otis.”

“I take it you’re not?” I asked, trying to sound braver than I felt.

“As far as I’m concerned,” he said, bringing his face up close to mine, “you’re just another lab rat. Put one toe out of line, and you’ll suffer the same fate.”

Releasing my shoulder, Dr. Denman drew an imaginary line across his neck with his right index finger. The effect was chilling, but I glared back defiantly, determined not to be fazed by him. After all, Dr. Otis was the head researcher here, not Dr. Denman.

Dr. Denman cuffed me lightly across the face and growled, “You just watch yourself, psionic.”

He walked away, and I stood shaking for a moment before remembering to hurry back to Alia.

C
hapter 14: Dr. Howell

My new security card opened both the outer and inner airlock doors, but only from the outside of each. To get out, I had to call the Central Control Room through the microphone, which I finally discovered was, not surprisingly, mounted on the camera. It would have been even nicer if we didn’t have to wear the control bands at all, but at least I was free of the wheelchair.

After two more days of testing, during which I was asked to levitate the same weight in different materials and order them by difficulty, I was told that Alia’s tests would begin the following day. This time, I would be the tagalong.

Alia refused to let go of my hand the next morning as we walked to Lab-D, which turned out to be something like a school classroom with desks and chairs in neat rows. There were also some soundproofed cubicles along one wall, each with an airtight door. Most of the cubicles were as small as closets, though one was larger and contained a small bed. One of the doctors explained that this laboratory was used to test telepathy and other remote communication powers such as dreamweaving.

I was told to get Alia to demonstrate her telepathy. Coaxing her into it was a long and arduous process that reminded me of my own first encounter with her. I chose Dr. Kellogg as the recipient, knowing that Alia would be most comfortable with him, and after nearly half an hour of pleading, I finally got her to send some simple messages through the cubicle walls.

The doctors thanked me for my assistance, but I could only mumble a half-hearted, “You’re welcome.” Alia was visibly upset with me for making her talk to Dr. Kellogg. I had to remind myself that if I hadn’t pushed her, someone else would have. And after all, this was exactly the kind of thing I had signed on for when I made the deal with Dr. Otis.

In the afternoon, Alia, being the first healer to come to the Psionic Research Center, had to begin a series of physical examinations that were even more extensive than mine. But Alia was already stressed out from her morning telepathy session, and as we entered the examining room together, I could tell that we were in for an even bumpier ride.

For Alia, even some of the most basic examinations were emotionally unbearable simply because she couldn’t stand to be touched by a stranger. When a doctor tried to listen to her heartbeat, Alia was terrified not of the stethoscope but of the woman’s hand holding it to her chest, and no amount of reasoning could get her to breathe normally.

Like I had done when Alia got her control bands, I offered to hold the end of the stethoscope for the doctor, who looked a little insulted but agreed. It worked, and I helped out as best I could with Alia’s other tests as well, such as applying the electrode wires for her electrocardiogram.

Unfortunately, that tactic didn’t work for everything. I couldn’t assist the doctors when they wanted to take a sample of Alia’s blood. Alia threw a violent fit as they approached her with the hypodermic syringe, and I decided it was time to try out my newfound authority as her guardian. I promised the doctors that Alia would take her blood test in a few days when she was calmer, and they didn’t press the issue. I tried my best not to show it on my face, but I was elated that I had succeeded. Some of the doctors joked that Alia was “more scared of the people than the needle.” I didn’t find it at all amusing (mainly because it was true) but I dutifully laughed with them.

At the end of the day, I accompanied Dr. Kellogg to the doctors’ evening meeting. Alia tagged along uninvited, if not at all unexpected. Chaired by Dr. Otis, the evening meetings were for quick summaries of each day, announcements of last-minute changes to the next day’s schedule, and for the planning of future tests. I still hadn’t met nor heard anything about the four other psionics here, and Alia and I were only admitted to the meeting during the part where they talked about Alia. Dr. Denman complained loudly about the blood test and certain other tests Alia had skipped, scowling at her and insisting that it was a mistake to treat her...

“Like a child?” I asked, unable to contain my temper.

“Silence, psionic!” he shot back savagely. He was the only doctor who never called Alia or me by name, choosing to use our identity codes P-46 and P-47, or refer to us as “the psionics.”

Still, Dr. Otis and Dr. Kellogg were on my side, so Dr. Denman had even less authority than I did regarding Alia’s treatment here.

Alia went through another three days of tests, starting with a detailed history of her life and powers, which I told as completely as I could. Not surprisingly, they didn’t have any past medical information on her.

Once her medical exams were finished, we moved on to more experiments with her telepathy, testing its range and how well it traveled through various substances. Alia could think her way through three yards of solid concrete.

I was told that Alia’s healing ability would not be tested until she was more comfortable in the lab, but I also knew that it was her healing that made her so valuable to the research at this facility. They already had telepaths here before.

A basic testing routine was established: There would be three or four days for me, and then two or three for Alia. We might get a day off between our shifts, but that was never promised. The general agreement concerning the actual testing was that Alia would rarely be experimented on without my consent, and certainly not out of my presence.

I knew perfectly well that my authority over Alia’s experiments depended on my complete submission to mine. I did everything they asked of me, including a series of painful medical tests that I didn’t quite understand the purpose of. I also started working up to moving, levitating, and blasting larger objects in Lab-C. If the doctors ever feared that they were training me to be a more powerful telekinetic, they didn’t show it.

Dr. Denman did his utmost best to make our lives miserable. He would corner Alia and me in the corridors and taunt us with threatening remarks, or tell us stories about what happens to psionics who try to escape.