going on. More than wanting to get out of here. No one could know about that side of my power.
Frankie was convulsing now, her limbs thrashing. If I was right, she was facing her very worst fears in there.
“The machine is registering a zero?” Vine said. “Do you concur?”
“She’s not Shifting, if that’s what you mean,” Aubrey said, clearly uncomfortable with what we were doing to Frankie.
“Let’s turn up the test, to make sure.” He twisted again.
Frankie’s scream was high and desperate. Whatever she was going through, it was terrifying.
“Stop it!” Aubrey shouted, moving towards Frankie.
Vine grabbed Aubrey by the arm, holding her back. “Still zero,” he said, reading from a screen on the simulator. “Let’s give her a few minutes more. So the Commandant can be convinced.” He didn’t take his eyes off me.
Frankie’s screams had turned to sobs. I knew what she was going though. I’d been there myself. She was begging for someone to kill her. For someone to end the pain. It was at this point when Abbott had subjected me to the simulators that the power to Force had awoken in me. With a word, I’d been able to make Abbott kill himself, Benjo Green munch down on a tray filled with surgical tools, and guards lie down and go to sleep.
I watched Frankie kicking and thrashing. Was she manipulating us even now? Was she managing to resist the desire to Shift herself out of the situation? All the time, the lights on the machine never moved.
She let out a cry of terror. I couldn’t watch any more.
“Stop it,” I said.
“I’m sorry, what was that, Commandant Tyler?” Vine said. “I couldn’t quite hear you.”
“I said ‘stop it’, OK?”
Vine hit the switches and Frankie went limp in the chair. Aubrey quickly pushed the helmet away from Frankie’s head and unfastened the straps. Frankie’s unconscious face was pale and streaked with tears. Vine laid a hand on her wrist, patting it like soothing an elderly relative.
He turned to me. “Satisfied, Commandant?”
I was satisfied that Frankie wasn’t a Shifter. But I wasn’t satisfied that she wasn’t this Slate George had been talking about. Maybe he’d been confused. Maybe he meant an ex-Shifter. I was going to keep watching her, no matter what.
“It’s a shame, really.” Vine pulled out a white handkerchief and wiped his hands on it. “To think of the possibilities, were we able to put a Forcer in the Igloo. As it is, we’re in desperate need of a new Fixer. And the only other one we have in the division is you, Commandant Tyler.” He pushed the white cloth back into the pocket of his jacket. “But of course, we’d have to be truly desperate to consider that.”
I didn’t know what this Igloo was or why Vine needed a Fixer for it. Something about the blank way he looked at me made me realise I couldn’t let him know that.
Luckily, it seemed Aubrey had never heard of it either. “What is the Igloo, sir?”
“The Igloo, Captain Jones, is the only thing standing between us and a nuclear strike.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The room was brilliantly white, even brighter than the infirmary, with a vast, domed ceiling and curved walls. I saw now why they called it the Igloo.
As my eyes adjusted to the glare, I made out hexagonal panels covering the walls and ceilings. It reminded me of an observatory. Or like being inside a huge satellite dish.
Frankie had reluctantly led us here. I could sense her anger towards me in every sharp glance and clipped word. She kept her distance, which was fine by me.
Vine walked into the centre of the room and stopped next to a large white box that looked like an oversized sarcophagus: wider at the top than at the bottom with a slight bulge at the top for a head.
“This” – he laid his hand on the coffin-like box – “is the heart of the Igloo – the Eskimo.”
The box had a glass window at the head. What I saw through it made my head spin.
I recognised that face: the dark
Frankie was convulsing now, her limbs thrashing. If I was right, she was facing her very worst fears in there.
“The machine is registering a zero?” Vine said. “Do you concur?”
“She’s not Shifting, if that’s what you mean,” Aubrey said, clearly uncomfortable with what we were doing to Frankie.
“Let’s turn up the test, to make sure.” He twisted again.
Frankie’s scream was high and desperate. Whatever she was going through, it was terrifying.
“Stop it!” Aubrey shouted, moving towards Frankie.
Vine grabbed Aubrey by the arm, holding her back. “Still zero,” he said, reading from a screen on the simulator. “Let’s give her a few minutes more. So the Commandant can be convinced.” He didn’t take his eyes off me.
Frankie’s screams had turned to sobs. I knew what she was going though. I’d been there myself. She was begging for someone to kill her. For someone to end the pain. It was at this point when Abbott had subjected me to the simulators that the power to Force had awoken in me. With a word, I’d been able to make Abbott kill himself, Benjo Green munch down on a tray filled with surgical tools, and guards lie down and go to sleep.
I watched Frankie kicking and thrashing. Was she manipulating us even now? Was she managing to resist the desire to Shift herself out of the situation? All the time, the lights on the machine never moved.
She let out a cry of terror. I couldn’t watch any more.
“Stop it,” I said.
“I’m sorry, what was that, Commandant Tyler?” Vine said. “I couldn’t quite hear you.”
“I said ‘stop it’, OK?”
Vine hit the switches and Frankie went limp in the chair. Aubrey quickly pushed the helmet away from Frankie’s head and unfastened the straps. Frankie’s unconscious face was pale and streaked with tears. Vine laid a hand on her wrist, patting it like soothing an elderly relative.
He turned to me. “Satisfied, Commandant?”
I was satisfied that Frankie wasn’t a Shifter. But I wasn’t satisfied that she wasn’t this Slate George had been talking about. Maybe he’d been confused. Maybe he meant an ex-Shifter. I was going to keep watching her, no matter what.
“It’s a shame, really.” Vine pulled out a white handkerchief and wiped his hands on it. “To think of the possibilities, were we able to put a Forcer in the Igloo. As it is, we’re in desperate need of a new Fixer. And the only other one we have in the division is you, Commandant Tyler.” He pushed the white cloth back into the pocket of his jacket. “But of course, we’d have to be truly desperate to consider that.”
I didn’t know what this Igloo was or why Vine needed a Fixer for it. Something about the blank way he looked at me made me realise I couldn’t let him know that.
Luckily, it seemed Aubrey had never heard of it either. “What is the Igloo, sir?”
“The Igloo, Captain Jones, is the only thing standing between us and a nuclear strike.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The room was brilliantly white, even brighter than the infirmary, with a vast, domed ceiling and curved walls. I saw now why they called it the Igloo.
As my eyes adjusted to the glare, I made out hexagonal panels covering the walls and ceilings. It reminded me of an observatory. Or like being inside a huge satellite dish.
Frankie had reluctantly led us here. I could sense her anger towards me in every sharp glance and clipped word. She kept her distance, which was fine by me.
Vine walked into the centre of the room and stopped next to a large white box that looked like an oversized sarcophagus: wider at the top than at the bottom with a slight bulge at the top for a head.
“This” – he laid his hand on the coffin-like box – “is the heart of the Igloo – the Eskimo.”
The box had a glass window at the head. What I saw through it made my head spin.
I recognised that face: the dark
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