But there was one section of her dossier he’d never read: the complete psychological report prepared by one of the staff psychiatrists at TE Headquarters.
He’d read Dr. Pjam’s medical conclusion about Dona’s mental health, but the rest of the file was under a privacy block. Her conclusion said Dona was intelligent and mentally stable, with strong interpersonal skills and a keen understanding of the motivations of others. But there was one offhand line that had nagged at Alerio for years.
“Despite whatever challenges Dona Astryr encountered as a child and a teen, I believe she will make a skilled and capable Enforcer.”
“Despite whatever challenges”? Now, what the hell did that mean?
Though his curiosity had been piqued, Alerio had no reason to probe deeper. He could have cracked the privacy block and read the file anyway; he’d spent his boyhood compcracking Xeran cyborgs and dodging homicidal priests. He’d left the rest of the file alone because reading it would be a violation of Dona’s privacy.
Two years later, he still felt that way.
Thing was, Dona’s behavior since then—such as putting up with Ivar’s abuse—suggested that whatever childhood trauma she’d suffered was still a problem now. If he had a better idea of just what had happened to her, maybe he’d be able to help her resolve the issue.
Alerio frowned, eyeing the three-dimensional file box icon as it floated above the desk. Am I rationalizing a lover’s curiosity? It was possible, but his gut insisted there was something in that file he needed to know.
Even if he had to invade Dona’s privacy to do it.
She was going to be seriously pissed off when she found out what he’d done. And she would find out, because he would have to tell her. Otherwise, it really would be a betrayal.
A cold ache in his heart told him what he was considering could destroy any hope of a relationship they had. Yet something had gone badly wrong in Dona’s childhood that was still throwing a shadow over her life today. Unless he found out what it was, they had no chance.
Which may be beefershit, he thought grimly. But one way or another, I’m about to find out.
Taking a deep breath, Alerio went to work cracking the privacy block.
The block shattered in five-point-three minutes. “Must be losing my touch,” Alerio grumbled as he tapped the first image, activating it.
Dr. Javen Pjam had skin the smooth honey brown of caramel. Her coloring made her jade green eyes even more startling. They matched the spun-gold hair that reminded Alerio of a Spanish doubloon he’d once seen. Her medical robes were cut like a kimono, the elegant fabric a rich bronze swirled with green and gold.
She studied a younger Dona across the width of a massive teak desk, her gaze probing. Dona looked oddly informal dressed in a dark brown civilian tunic and trousers. Her hair was cropped to shoulder length. “So your parents were gene-gineers?” Pjam asked.
Dona nodded. If she felt any nervousness at the power the doctor had over her future, it didn’t show. “Yes. They specialized in gene-gineering children for the wealthy. I gather they made a very good living at it.”
The doctor made a note on her desktop with a stylus that matched her eyes. “I’d imagine your sisters’ respective careers helped them attract business.”
Alerio drummed his fingers on his desk as he searched his memory of Dona’s background dossier. One sister had been a six-time gold medal winner in anti-grav gymnastics at the GU Olympics. The middle sister was a trid actress who’d been famous from the age of five.
Dona nodded, expressionless. “My parents were very proud of them.”
The doctor looked up. “They ‘were’? You mean they’re not anymore?”
She shrugged. “I’m sure they still are, but I haven’t spoken to any of them in eighteen years.”
Pjam blinked, visibly startled. “Since you were eight?”
“Right.”
She looked down at her desk. Alerio suspected she was giving herself time to think. “You were six when your zero-grav dance teacher told them that though you were technically proficient, you had no talent for the artistic aspect of dance.”
“I didn’t.” If the judgment stung, it didn’t show.
“And whose fault was that?”
“My parents argued about that. Who was supposed to alter whatever gene it was, and hadn’t. Who was responsible.”
“They didn’t blame you?” The doctor lifted a shining blond brow.
“Why should they? I didn’t gene-gineer myself.”
“Ah. No, I don’t suppose you did.” Pjam scribbled a few more notes. “How did they react to learning about the . . . problem?”
“I was born to be a marketing tool, and I was worthless.” Oddly, she didn’t sound angry. If Alerio hadn’t known better, he’d have thought she was talking about someone else. “Worse than that, really. I was evidence they could fail. Not the kind of kid you wanted hanging around.”
“That must have been painful.”
“It’s been twenty years. All that stuff doesn’t really matter to me anymore.”
The doctor gave her a skeptical stare. Alerio didn’t think he believed her either. He was beginning to understand why Dona tolerated Ivar’s abuse. Apparently, she’d rarely known anything else.
“Why did your parents decide to send you to the Aranian academy?”
“I had the intelligence, the physical strength, the agility, and the discipline. And at the time, the government paid families a quarter of a million galactors to let them implant a child with tech and send him to the ’borg academy.” You had to implant the biocrystal net when kids were young, before their brains matured. Otherwise their bodies would reject it.
“A quarter of a million is a lot of money,” Pjam observed.
“Well, it’s not an easy process, and it wasn’t particularly safe. Especially given the quality of Aranian tech at the time. Kids suffered hallucinations and a host of physical side effects. You had officer candidates dropping from heart attacks and tech rejection strokes at the age of ten.”
Pjam looked appalled. “And your parents let the government do that to you, knowing all that?”
“I have no idea whether they knew it or not, but I’d assume they did. It was common knowledge, which was why the government was so desperate for implant candidates. They had a hard time getting parents to agree.”
“Yours did. How did that make you feel?”
Dona jerked one shoulder in a half-shrug. “We were at war. I was needed. And they had to do something with me.”
“You were eight. Most parents don’t require their children to turn a profit before the age of ten.”
“Most parents aren’t genetic engineers.”
“Actually, I know a great many genetic engineers, none of whom sell their children like poverty-stricken Mithran peasants.” The doctor sighed. “Never mind. What was the academy like?”
Her expression eased slightly. She almost smiled. “I learned a great deal.”
“Yes, I’d imagine becoming a government assassin would require mastery of all kinds of skills.”
Dona gave the doctor a long, cold look that barely missed contemptuous. “We were at war, Doctor. And the Xerans were trying to steal our lisium mines, the only thing Arania had that was of any value.” She curled a lip. “And that wasn’t even their worst habit. Not by a long shot.”
Well, I can definitely agree with that sentiment, Alerio thought, remembering life as a very young Warkin child under the Xeran occupation.