Bright light shines through my closed eyelids, and I try to pull the sheet over my head, but my arm is caught on something. There’s something gripping my right wrist.

I try to lift my left arm, and it’s caught too.

What the hell?

My eyes fly open, my heart thudding in my ears, and a clean, smooth metal ceiling comes into focus. It’s much better lit than any ceiling in the Sorority, even during the brightest hours of the day. And this light is cold. Bright white. Artificial.

I turn my head and find a man and a woman in white lab coats, tapping on tablets, seated at metal desks built into the wall.

Panic flutters in my chest as the obvious conclusion sinks in. I fight the straps holding me to the bed—the table?—and that’s when I discover that my legs are restrained too. At the ankles. I’m strapped to a fucking lab table!

One of the strangers notices me struggling and stands. The man—his name tag reads “J. Filmore, PhD”— taps something on his tablet, then speaks into it. “Dr. Brennan, she’s awake.”

“Thanks, Justin. On my way,” a woman’s voice replies.

“Where am I?” I ask, but the people in lab coats only stare at me. “Hey. Who are you? Is this zone X?”

“I’m sorry. We’re not authorized to give you any information without Dr. Brennan’s direct approval,” the woman says.

Brennan. I know that name. This is zone X. Carson’s scientists took me. They just fucking—

“How did I get here?” I think back, without taking my focus from the woman in the lab coat, trying to remember what led up to this.

Carson. He killed the men who tried to take me, then we…

We had sex. Again. I must have fallen asleep. Or maybe he…did something to me? I don’t think he would hurt me on purpose, but none of this makes sense.

How did Brennan find us? Why would she take me? I’m not a super-soldier.

“Where’s Carson?” I demand, and I can’t seem to make my arms stop fighting the straps. My wrists already burn from the friction, as if I’ve been struggling against my restraints for a long time. In my sleep. “How long have I been here? How long was I out?”

“Seventy-six hours,” a new voice says, and I roll my head to the other side to see another woman in a lab coat standing in the doorway of the metal-walled lab. The name tag on her coat reads, “M. Brennan, PhD. Project Director.”

Dr. Brennan steps into the room and walks past a long countertop stocked with medical equipment and instruments. “At least, that’s how long you’ve been here. I’m not sure how long you were unconscious before that.”

“Seventy-six…? That’s more than three days!”

“Yes, and despite the fact that our tests all say there is nothing wrong with you, we were starting to worry.”

Dr. Brennan grabs a stool and rolls it toward the table I’m strapped to. She uses a lever to raise it, then she sits. “I am Dr. Maryann Brennan. I run Project Vetus. I’m assuming, considering the time you evidently spent with Captain Sotelo, that you know what that is?”

“I didn’t spend much time with him. But yes, he told me about your…project.”

“This is Justin Filmore, the project’s assistant director, and Lena Baker, our lab assistant.”

“Why am I here?”

“Because Captain Sotelo asked us to treat you,” she says, and before I can ask any of the million follow up questions rattling around in my head, she continues. “If I let you sit up, are you going to cause any trouble?”

“I… Are you going to poke me with needles?”

Amusement turns up one corner of her stern mouth, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “We might. But I promise to warn you first.”

“Are you going to inject me with alien DNA?” I frown, wishing I could see the rest of my body, beneath the thin sheet draped over me. “Have you already?”

Justin-the-assistant-director rolls his eyes as he sinks into the chair at his desk.

“No,” Dr. Brennan says. “That’s not how the process works, and even if it were, you would not be a good candidate for the procedure. Though you’re perfectly healthy, as far as I can tell, there is nothing extraordinary about your physique, nor do you possess any particular skill that would be a valuable addition to our program. Does that put you at ease?”

Does it put me at ease to know I’m not special enough to be turned into a monster? “Yeah, I guess.”

“Come in, gentlemen.” Dr. Brennan waves at someone on my other side, and I turn my head again as two armed prison guards step into the room.

I turn back to Dr. Brennan, my pulse whooshing so loud in my ears that I can hardly hear myself speak. “Please don’t send me back to the Resort. Please.” I’m surprised by how badly that prospect scares me. I was fine at the Resort. I mean, it sucked. But it didn’t take me long to figure out how to separate myself from what happened on the nights I was rented out, and to focus on the positives instead. On hot meals and warm showers. On clean clothes and relative safety.

I was lucky enough not to have many physically abusive “customers,” and I was among the women who weren’t sure they wanted to escape, when Maci and Callum practically dragged us into the unknown wilderness of zone three. But now that I’ve been free from all that…

Now that I’m not forced to strip and let strangers spread my legs, grateful that they just want normal rape…

“I’m going to be sick. Please, is there a bowl or something?” I turn my head to the side and clench my jaw, trying to hold back the bile rising in my throat while the lab assistant scrambles to grab a hospital-style plastic puke bag and hand it to Dr. Brennan.

I can’t go back.

“Calm down please, Ms. Malone. There is no more Resort, and even if there were, I wouldn’t send you back there. Two armed guards are required to be in the room any time a prisoner is unrestrained. A normal prisoner, anyway. The ratio goes up to six-to-one for death-row inmates and for our special zone X prisoners.”

She taps a button on her wrist com, and beneath the sheet covering me, the restraints fall away from my wrists and ankles. “Try to sit up slowly. You haven’t moved much in the past three days, nor have you had any real food. You’re probably going to feel pretty lightheaded.”

She’s right. The entire room spins around me as I push myself upright, and when the sheet falls to my waist, I drag it back up and clasp it to my chest. My very bare chest. “Where are my clothes?”

“I had them incinerated,” Dr. Brennan says. “They were disgusting. But I have a fresh set waiting for you, and after our chat, you’re welcome to put them on.”

“But they’re not going to take me back?” I turn to glance at the expressionless guards stationed on either side of the open door behind me, and when I realize they can see my butt, I wrap the sheet around myself to the best of my ability, without standing. “Because there is no more Resort,” I finish, as that bit of information finally sinks in. Mallory told us that, at the Sorority, and I believed her, but now it feels real.

“That’s right. Do you still need this?” Dr. Brennan asks, and I turn again to see her holding out the puke bag.

“Maybe just in case.” I take the bag and set it next to me on the table. “So…what happened to me? Why was I unconscious?”

Dr. Brennan sits on her stool again, and the assistant sits at the empty desk behind her, so that I’m facing three scientists, with two armed guards at my back. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt more vulnerable.

“We haven’t found any definitive cause for that,” Dr. Brennan admits. “But my personal theory, as obvious as this will sound, is that you were simply exhausted.”

I blink at her. “You think I was unconscious for more than three days because I was tired? Maybe you ought to ask for a refund on that PhD,” I tell her, and the lab assistant’s mouth twitches while she tries to fight back a smile. “Because I get tired all the time, but I’ve never slept for even half that long before.”

“Not tired, Ms. Malone. Not sleepy, either,” Dr. Brennan corrects me. “Physically exhausted. I think your body needed to conserve energy for an important task, and to do that, it shut down all non-essential functions.”

“Including eating? Because I consider that pretty essential. Was I eating in my sleep?”

“No, we fed you intravenously,” she admits.

“So, if you hadn’t found me, I’d probably have starved to death?”

“Not in three days.” Dr. Brennan reaches back, and before she can even explain what she wants, her female assistant hands her a transparent tablet. “But you would definitely have been severely dehydrated. The needle marks on the insides of your elbows are from intravenous fluids. I can assure you we took very good care of you. But we weren’t sure when you would wake up. Or even that you would.”

“We’ve installed a biochip beneath the skin of your abdomen,” Justin says. “The incision only required two stitches, and it should be fully healed in a couple of days. It will monitor your body’s general health and send readings to us, up on Station Delta, so we can continue our research with as little need to poke and prod you as possible.” But the way he said it made it clear that he was more interested in saving himself time, than in saving me discomfort.

“So, what was this important task that my body was doing?” I’ve been avoiding that question for a couple of minutes, because I’m sitting in front of the woman who turned Carson into a monster. Her idea of an “important task” could be the growth of a third leg, for all I know. And if it’s something like that, I’m not sure I want to know.

“We’ll get to that in a second, but first, I have a couple of questions. Captain Sotelo says that the two of you had unprotected intercourse. Twice. Within hours of meeting. Is that correct?”

“I… That’s none of your business.” Where the hell does an employee of the company that whored me out for profit get off criticizing me for sleeping with someone voluntarily, regardless of the time frame?

“Ms. Malone, he agreed to cooperate with our study of his newly discovered ability in exchange for your treatment, and he was eager to tell us anything that could help. Specifically, about the circumstances of your loss of consciousness. We just need you to verify the information he’s already given us. So, is that a ‘yes?’ Unprotected intercourse? Two times, within just a couple of hours?”

“I…yes.” Why does my face feel so warm? After my time at the Resort, I wouldn’t have thought there’d be anything left of my modesty.

“And he insists that this was voluntary on your part. But we’re aware of what life is like for women in the general population, and that there’s a possibility you might have felt coerced, even if he didn’t intend to coerce you.” She clears her throat. “Or that he could be lying.” But she doesn’t seem to believe that. Whatever else she knows about him, she doesn’t believe that Carson is a rapist.

“I…it was voluntary. Sort of. I mean, he didn’t force me.” I stare down at my hands in my lap when I realize there are five people listening to me discuss my sex life. “But I didn’t really intend to sleep with him, either. It was those pheromones you gave him. We both kind of just got caught up in it.”

Dr. Brennan looks up from her tablet in surprise. “Those pheromones I gave him?”

“You know.” I frown at her. “In your project. The ones that make him smell so good.”

“You could smell him?” Dr. Brennan has forgotten about her tablet now. She’s staring at me as if I’m one of her experiments.

“Um…yes?”

“What did he smell like?”

Like a chocolate-dipped spoon stirred into a mug of hot sex. But I can’t tell her that. “I don’t know. He smelled…good. Really good.”

Justin-the-assistant-director straightens in his chair, behind her. “Dr. Brennan, it sounds like your theory was—”

She cuts him off with one raised hand. “Ms. Malone your record indicates that you’ve carried one child to term. Is that correct?”

“I…” My hands clench around the edge of the lab table. “I’m done answering questions. I’d like to get dressed now.”

“We’re almost finished. Have you only carried one child to term?”

“What does that matter?” Dread churns in my gut. “Did you say something about that to Carson?”

“No, Captain Sotelo is not privy to your medical history. And I’m only trying to verify the facts in your file, to make sure we’re doing everything we can for you here.”

“But you said there was nothing wrong with me.”

“Other than mild anemia, that’s true. However—”

“What was my body doing?” Chill bumps pop up all over my arms as that dread seems to twist my guts into knots. “Why was I unconscious for three days?”

“Ms. Malone—”

“No.” I clutch the sheet tighter around my body, wielding it like a shield. “I’m not answering any more of your questions until you answer one of mine. What happened to me?”

The assistant director and the lab assistant glance at each other, and sweat gathers behind my knees. What the hell is going on?

“I’m still trying to figure that out,” Dr. Brennan says. “That’s why I’m asking these questions. Ms. Malone, were you sterilized before being sent to Rhodon?”

“Of course. All the women are sterilized before they get here. Isn’t that in my records?”

“Yes, your record indicates that the procedure was performed ten days before you boarded the transport. And your tenure at the Resort would seem to indicate that the procedure was successful. However, we gave you a complete body scan less than twenty-four-hours ago, and there is no sign of any such procedure having been performed.”

What?

I stare at her. I’ve forgotten how to blink. I’ve forgotten how to breathe.

“What did you just say?”

“Ms. Malone, at some point between the time you escaped from the Resort into zone three and the time we brought you here, three days ago, your body seems to have…repaired itself. Almost as if it has rejected the sterilization procedure. And unless there’s something you’d like to tell me about your time in zone three, the only thing I can point to that could possibly have led to this is your exchange of bodily fluids with Captain Sotelo.”

“You’re telling me I can get pregnant?” I can’t process the details just yet. I’m still stuck on the headline.

Dr. Brennan’s direct eye contact seems to carry a very real weight. “I’m telling you that unless you make significant effort to stop that from happening, you will get pregnant. Based on what you’ve told me here today and what we’ve found in tests run while you were unconscious, your body seems to be preparing itself for that very thing. Beginning with your response to what may, in fact, be pheromones emitted by Captain Sotelo. The possibility of which we’ve only theorized, until now.”

“Wait a minute. You’re saying that his scent made my body…reject sterilization?”

“Was that your first contact with Sotelo?”

“First contact… No, wait. I actually met him the day before all that. And he…licked my hand. I’d punctured my palm on a twig.”

Dr. Brennan shrugs. “Saliva is a bodily fluid. Which means that process could have started a full day before you and Captain Sotelo actually had intercourse. In fact, that exchange is probably what made your body so receptive to further contact. Though again, that’s just a theory.”

“How is this possible?” My voice sounds distant. Stunned.

“Well, it wouldn’t be, if we were only talking about human anatomy. But one of Captain Sotelo’s acquired traits is his body’s ability to sort of work around his human form’s limitations. You may have noticed that there are seams on the undersides of his forearms, and on his elbows, and on—”

“His knuckles. Yeah, all your super-soldier additions were kind of hard to miss.”

“Yes, well, those seams are his body’s adaptation to the blades and spires. To the fact that they have to have a way in and out, through his skin. His body has developed self-sealing seams that open and close as needed, to allow access to his on-board weaponry.”

“And you’re saying that his…fluids have given me that ability too? The ability to…work around my limitations?” So, what? Carson hacked my reproductive system?

“Well, we’ve recently discovered that he also has the ability to physically change his form. The truth is that either one of those abilities—or some combination—could be responsible for what your body’s accomplished. We won’t know for sure until we’ve run some more tests.”

My focus narrows on her face, as if nothing else in the world exists in this moment. “You think I can take on someone else’s form?”

“No, I don’t. We took extensive samples of your genetic material, and there’s no sign that there was any permanent alteration. So if there was a change, it seems to have been…transitory. But it was enough to make a fairly significant—and by all appearances, permanent—alteration to your body.”

“You’re not fucking kidding!”

Justin scowls at my language, but Lena-the-assistant seems to be trying to hide another smile.

I’m not laughing. “I don’t want kids. So can you just…go back in there and redo what was undone?”

“You want us to…?” Dr. Brennan frowns.

“Yes. Just snip, or sew, or cauterize, or whatever needs to happen. A prison planet is no place to have a baby, and unless you’re telling me that I’m about to be paroled for good behavior, that’s not going to change.”

Dr. Brennan frowns. “Ms. Malone, you don’t seem to fully appreciate your position in this lab. The warden has officially signed you over to Project Vetus so we can find out exactly what happened to you, and why. Which means that you are now a permanent experimental subject, just like Captain Sotelo and the others.”

“On the bright side,” Lena adds. “You’ll get a bed, and clean clothes, and hot showers, and—”

“Yeah, they offered me that at the Resort too,” I snap. “But there was a catch.”

“This is not the Resort,” Justin says. “The catch is that we’ll be taking samples. Running tests. Trying to figure out how this happened to you, and what that means for the future of our project.”

“No thanks.” I tuck the sheet tighter around my chest. “Transfer me back to the prison. I’m gonna take my chances in zone three, if you don’t mind.”

Dr. Brennan stands. “Ms. Malone, even if I were willing to do that—and I’m not—how long do you think you’d make it in the open population on your own before you got pregnant?”

Because even if she were going to release me—and she’s not—it wouldn’t be into zone three, where I have a support system. It would be into some random gen pop zone, where I’d be unable to defend myself. Assuming I survive the inevitable assaults, I’d soon be pregnant in a place with no medical care and very limited hygiene facilities.

“Do you understand now?” Dr. Brennan’s voice is soft, but smug, and I can only nod. “Good. Justin, Lena, and I are going to step out and let you get dressed. Then we’ll show you to your new quarters.”

“Where’s Carson?”

“Down the hall, in his cell. He’s quite eager to see you, and we’re excited to see how this reunion goes.”

Reunion. They want to know if I’m going to take one whiff of him, then strip and jump him. Which implies that if that does happen, they’re going to watch.

Well, they’re out of luck. I won’t be touching Captain Carson Sotelo ever again.