As we approach the release of Merged, book two of the Forged series, I’ll be releasing the first couple of chapters of the companion novellas. Follow along and hop back into the Forged world. But be warned…
MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD. PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK.
The following file contains classified material related to the events of Shattered (Forged Series, Book One), so if you haven’t completed it, close this file now.
“Teleia, have a seat.” Sara gestured to the wooden chair across the table from her. Sara and the Underground’s three other executive leaders were already settled, evidently waiting on me. Max sat ramrod straight, arms crossed, face frozen in his signature scowl. Enrique watched my approach with an expectant expression and seemed to vibrate with eagerness. His wife Lara was the yin to his yang as she slouched back in her chair, brow furrowed and gaze focused on the table. Was she deliberately not looking at me?
Sara cleared her throat with impatience. “Teleia. Sit.”
What was I? A dog? My eye twitched, but I pulled out the chair and perched on the edge. I’d learn to mimic Max’s posture when called before the inquisition. Thankfully, the panel of leaders didn’t convene often. At least not all four of them at once. This meeting was apparently important.
Enrique rubbed his palms together and cleared his throat. “Teleia, we have exciting news. Plans are in the works to put your training to use. We’re finally moving to the insertion phase!”
Dread washed over me. Throughout all my preparations for this mission to infiltrate the urban center and pose as the niece of Dr. Finn Roberts, a part of me hadn’t believed it would actually happen. That all the talk was just . . . talk. I blinked and forced myself to breathe.
Max glanced over at him, irritation flaring his nostrils. “What you need to know is that on June twenty-first, you will take over Contessa Wright’s life. You have much to master in the next six months, so your training is not over. It’s time to focus. No more theatrics.”
His glare pinned me to my seat, which was good because I was beginning to feel like I was being swallowed whole. Sucked into a vortex. Dragged down by a riptide.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I’d known the basics of the plan for about a year. I would pose as the far-away niece who had been diagnosed as immunocompromised at age five and who had been sheltered from her aunt, uncle, and the rest of the world ever since. The condition was a ruse, contrived by the Underground, to isolate the girl whose life I was to take over. “How exactly will I be inserted?”
I’d once overheard Lara speaking on a camcall about adjusting the medications that simulated the illness. Lara was comparing growth charts—mine and the girl’s—and noting an unacceptable variance. Apparently, the drugs were too strong, and her growth was being stunted. Whoever she was talking to, Lara directed them to make adjustments to allow the girl’s growth to be stimulated.
Max’s unemotional voice interrupted my wandering mind. “The Wright family will be terminated. Contessa’s memories will be transferred to you. Finn Roberts will come get you and take you to the Bannock zone.”
Terminated. The word landed like a punch to the gut. This wasn’t a bait-and-switch exercise. People were going to die for this mission. I wasn’t merely going to pretend to be someone else; I was going to replace her. Be her. The only her.
Lara looked pained. As the camp doctor, she was always trying to heal people. Her expression mirrored how I felt about this news.
“Details for insertion will be finalized later. First step, making sure you can convince everyone that you are Contessa Wright.” Max’s statement left no room for failure.
“Won’t her aunt and uncle be able to tell?” I sat on my hands to keep them still.
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Lara darted a glance at me but spoke looking at the table. “We selected Contessa because you and she . . . look alike. You will need to make some alterations to your body mass and hair, but no one, not even her aunt and uncle, will be able to tell the difference. At least not physically.”
Sara leaned forward. “And with the Cerebral Coupling, you’ll have access to her complete memory bank.”
“All her memories?” Adrenaline surging through my system triggered a free-floating sensation of numbness. “How’s that possible?”
“Like transferring data between computers. We’ll transfer the data from her brain to yours.” Sara waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about the science. Just know that you will have access to all her memories. You’ll still need to study and perfect her mannerisms and speech patterns.”
Max grunted. “Maybe with the memory loss, Teleia will finally lose that chip on her shoulder.”
I gritted my teeth and narrowed my eyes at him. Oh, how I wanted to take a shot at the chip on his shoulder. But now was not the time to get into a pissing match with Max.
Focus. Breathe in. Breathe out.
After a moment, his words sank in, and I turned to Sara for an explanation. “I’ll have memory loss?”
“The procedure may cause some temporary amnesia. Nothing to worry about.”
“How much memory loss? For how long?”
Sara gave Max a sour look before calmly lacing her fingers and placing her joined hands on the table. She leveled her gaze on me. “Teleia, I’ve performed Cerebral Coupling multiple times, and no significant memory loss was experienced in any of the test subjects. Minor holes in the host’s memories. Some small details. And all reported the effects were temporary.”
Max said, “The most important detail to remember is your mission objectives. Being placed in Finn’s home gives you the best chance to complete it. However, you’ll need to work your way into the ranks of the ELITES to gain access to the homes of the Rykers and Iversons.”
“Can you tell me more about these ELITES?”
Sara addressed my question before Max could respond. “As we’ve mentioned, they’re a group of students you’ll meet at school.” She pushed a tablet toward me. An image filled the screen. A line-up of nine teens stood beside a government podium where Grand Governor Julia Ryker appeared to be making a speech.
“The key point is that they’re all children of high-ranking military, government, and scientific leaders. As Finn’s niece, you’ll fit right in.”
Medals hung around each of their necks, and the banner on the vidscreen behind the stage read, “Academic Excellence.”
From the media streams, I knew that the tall boy with close-cropped blond hair standing in the middle and slightly in front of the others was Zeke Ryker, the Grand Governor’s son. His erect posture and the tilt of his chin hinted at his strict upbringing, influenced no doubt by his father, General Milo Ryker.
I zoomed the image closer. His expression was smug with a slight lift of one cheek and a furrow between his eyebrows. Probably a spoiled know-it-all who’d let his status and privileged lifestyle go to his head. His good looks likely added to his arrogance.
“Why are they called ELITES anyway?” I asked as I adjusted the photo to view the other teens in the line. “They look . . . conceited.” An eclectic assortment of sizes and ethnic mixes, none of them looked alike. But they gave an impression of sameness. Bold self-confidence and . . . entitlement? Their clothes certainly indicated their affluent status.
Sara pulled the tablet away from me. “They are highly intelligent, uniquely skilled, and well-trained humans. Do not underestimate their abilities to discover your true intent or mission.” She sounded offended. I sat back. “Have they been trained like me?” Max and Enrique said, “Yes.” Sara corrected them. “Not exactly.” She swiped to another screen and pushed the tablet toward me again. “You’ve had a more comprehensive and refined training protocol.” She nodded to the screen. “This is Dr. Williams. He’ll assist with the Cerebral Coupling and be the contact who will pass you off to Finn and Clari Roberts following the procedure.” “Will he be my field liaison for the mission?” Lara spoke up, as if startled. “No, your handler is still being vetted. As Contessa, you’ll have counseling sessions. We expect to use a psychologist as the go-between. Your recurring therapy meetings will help you adjust to the urban center and act as a cover to pass information back and forth.” She leaned forward to see Sara down the length of the table. “Should she know about RTI?”
I sat straighter. “What’s RTI?”
Sara’s lips puckered. She slowly placed her elbows on the table and steepled her fingers. After a deep sigh, she said, “RTI is Remote Thought Intervention. Assuming that you will have some amnesia, the RTI sessions will allow your handler to access your subconscious. This will aid the handler in getting you on track to complete your mission without delay.”
“What is RTI exactly?”
“A virtual construct for communicating with your subconscious. The handler will be able to monitor your thoughts and speak subliminally to you to transmit instructions. The efficiency of information transfer is an ideal method to facilitate your role in the mission.” Sara’s rapid-fire speech was both beguiling and disturbing.
Lara finally looked me in the eyes. “Teleia, RTI will help you cope with the stress. It’s the safest solution for ensuring your mental stability.”
Great. I was going to be mentally unstable. This mission was sounding better and better.
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