Incineration (The Incubation Trilogy Book 2) by Laura Disilverio Page A

my shoulder at the woman by the rail paying no attention to us.
    “What are you suggesting?”
    I try to organize my thoughts. “Well, at the very least, we need to be talking to her, each of us, about things we did together. Idris has known her longer and has more memories in common, so he should spend time with her. She and Alexander were close—almost like father and daughter. Seeing him again might reconnect some of the links for her. Could he come? Do you know where he is?” I realize I miss Alexander, too; I have a feeling everything would be better if he were here.
    “I know where he was . Idris won’t be happy with that idea.”
    “Screw Idris.”
    Wyck looks around to make sure no one overheard me. “You know Alexander and Idris were butting heads at the end. Idris is the commander here. We can’t fetch Alexander, not even for Fiere, without his permission. Besides, Alexander might not be where he was, or he might not be . . . in condition to travel.”
    I know he was going to say “might not be alive.” Alexander was gravely ill even before the IPF attack. “Let’s ask Idris.”
    We find Idris in the armory, going over a map with four Defiers—a woman and three men—I haven’t seen before. He looks up when we enter, black brows snapping together. “I’m busy.”
    “It’s important.” I stand my ground.
    “Ten minutes.”
    I’m too keyed up to settle to a task, so we loiter in the corridor outside the armory until Idris appears more like twenty minutes later. He walks past us, saying, “What is it?”
    We head for the middle deck where Idris raids the kitchen for a vegeprote bar and bites into it with strong teeth.
    “Fiere,” I say.
    “Ah.” Idris leans back against the counter. What seems to be genuine sadness pulls at his features. “I’d be happy to kill all the Prags for that alone, for what they did to Fiere.”
    “The thing is,” I plunge in, “I think we can undo it, some of it, at least.”
    He cocks a skeptical brow. “You managed to acquire an advanced degree in neurology and memory while you were in prison. My, you were busy.”
    I’m impatient with his snideness. “Stop it. I’m serious.” I lay out my plan, leaving Alexander until the end.
    It’s Wyck who broaches Alexander. “We think—”
    I’m grateful for the “we.”
    “—that having Alexander around would help Fiere recover her memory. I can find him, bring him back here.”
    Idris straightens.“Absolutely not.”
    Wyck plows on as if Idris hasn’t spoken. “He knows Fiere better than any of us—you know that. And he is a doctor. If anyone can help Fiere, it’s Alexander. He’s no threat to you. Even if he wanted to take over—which he wouldn’t—he isn’t strong enough. Last time I saw him . . . anyway, you’re in command here. Alexander wouldn’t dispute that.”
    I know it’s the wrong thing to say even before Idris slams a hand on the counter. “Of course he’s no threat to me! But this is my cell and I’ll do what’s necessary to keep it secure. Bringing in outsiders who don’t—”
    I interrupt before he can issue a categorical refusal which he wouldn’t be able to go back on without losing face. “It’s part of your ethic to not leave anyone behind, right? Well, part of Fiere’s been left behind. It’s not your fault, but there it is. You can help her find her way back to who she was by letting Wyck fetch Alexander.”
    I can see I’ve caught him up short by the look he gives me. He looks down at me, not really seeing me, I suspect, for a long moment before heading to the door. He turns, one hand stroking his chin. “All right,” he says abruptly. “You can bring Alexander if you can find him and he wants to come. Make sure he understands the ground rules: my word is law, and if he comes, he doesn’t leave. I’m not going to have someone who can pinpoint our location selling that information to the Prags—”
    “Alexander wouldn’t—”
    “—or giving it up