Lights illuminate the massive space, and near a large dock, a woman and a man wait for me. They’re both wearing New America’s drab olive-green command uniforms. I get a sick taste in my mouth, remembering Virginia in the same uniform when we first got to the island. I never wore one because it was impractical for training, but she held on to hers until it wore out. Now our supply building has lots of brand-new uniforms, none of them ever used. I’d have to be very fucking desperate for clothing before I’d put one of those on again.
The sub loads itself into a docking station and the door on the side automatically opens up like an old DeLorean. I step out, nodding at the man and woman.
“Commander Wells, I’m Commander Ingrid Voss,” the woman says. “And this is my vice commander, Tyrone Matheson.”
“Marcus Wells. I’m still not used to calling myself commander.”
McClain never used any of the regime’s titles once we got to the island. As the head scientist, he was technically the highest-ranking person, but he never wanted to be.
“We were so sorry to hear about Commander McClain. And so soon after Virginia Marsden. Do you need more help?” Ingrid studies me.
“Thank you. Commander McClain was my mentor and I was devastated to lose him, but his cancer had advanced to the point he was ready to go. And Virginia got too cocky. She was called into the circle.”
Ingrid arches her brows. “The circle?”
“It’s a fight to the death between two people. We believe only the strong should survive.”
“I see. You do have a rather ... primitive island, from what I recall.”
I nod, standing straight and tall. “That’s right, and I’m proud of it. We’re training soldiers to serve New America in the harshest of conditions.”
Her expression softens a notch. “Peace, order, and prosperity.”
“Peace, order, and prosperity,” I echo.
“We’ll get right to it. I don’t want to keep you away for long.”
“I appreciate that.” I glance at Tyrone. “What’s his clearance level?”
Ingrid smiles tightly at her second-in-command. “That will be all.”
He nods, salutes her, and walks away.
“What did you want to say?” Ingrid asks once we’re alone.
“I just wanted to say the kids on our island are exceeding all expectations. I assume it’s okay for me to talk about it with you?”
“Of course. But only me. Island Three is a hub of sorts. Anytime a leader dies, the successor comes here for a briefing. I know what’s happening on every island.”
I nod. “Good. It’s nice to be able to talk shop with someone again. Dr. McClain was ill for a while.”
“I’m deeply saddened by his loss. He didn’t realize it, but his DNA samples are the foundation for the biggest project we have going here.”
An alarm sounds in my head. Those samples from the Original Twenty-Six includemyDNA.
“He was a trailblazer.”
“Truly.” She looks me up and down, something flickering in her eyes.
She looks around forty, with short brown hair and average features. I’m relieved when she stops looking at me and begins the walk from the dock to a building attached to it.
“It’s late and I’m sure you’re tired,” she says. “A suite has been prepared for you. I’ll show you to it. Dinner will be delivered, and you’ll have an attendant for any needs that arise during your stay.”
I remind myself not to sound too appreciative. In the regime, the command officers expect to be catered to. They fire service workers for the slightest infraction.
“Okay,” I say.
Ingrid leads me through a brightly lit white hallway, the tile floor gleaming. Nothing adorns the walls. Two uniformed guards wait on either side of the door at the end of the hallway, both holding machine guns.
