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A thick shudder ran through her. Okay, so Room Fourteen had been screwing her around completely. It was a fact, she could assimilate it and adjust accordingly. But that fact begged a second question, almost as important as the first: if Westcott was reading her thoughts, what was he picking up? Could he hear the actual words she was thinking, or ... Nellie paused, floored by the possibilities. Could he see images? Had he actually seen the shorn-headed girl and the green-eyed boy when they’d appeared inside her head? Was that what the helmet did — pick up her brain waves and translate them into words and images so they could be studied by Westcott and Juba at a later date? Horror of horrors, were they stored somewhere on a computer so anyone with the proper access code could get at them?

At the front of the classroom, Col. Jolsen flashed diagrams of a bio-weapon called the venor virus onto the monitoring screen. Quickly Nellie reached for her laptop and scrolled through the research she’d completed on the virus’s methods of transmission. This was the bug, she reminded herself, that headed for the base of the brain. An assassin’s wet dream, the virus made it easy to cover your tracks because it took several weeks before the side effects became noticeable, but there was no reversing the progress of the disease and death was inevitable within two months of contact.

Having caught up with the class discussion, Nellie fixed her eyes blankly on her laptop screen and returned to her thoughts of Room Fourteen. It was important to be rational about this, she told herself firmly. Think it through
calmly
. So Westcott appeared to know things about her that she hadn’t guessed. Well, so what? What harm was there in that, really? Everyone at Detta was on the same side, partners in the Great War. Anything the psychiatrist
learned about her would be used to help her become a better agent, and that was the ultimate goal, wasn’t it? She didn’t need to hide her thoughts from Westcott, Detta, or anyone in the Advanced Program, not really.

Except ... Nellie’s heart slowed to a dull thud. What if Westcott had shown her private thoughts to Duikstra? What if the Supreme Bitch of the Known Universe had secretly been privy to Nellie’s hidden thoughts and feelings about her for the past four years?

Nellie felt ready to heave the contents of her stomach, big time. If she was correct about this, if Westcott had actually been entering her private thoughts into Detta’s database system, then he could also retrieve them at any time and show them to anyone he wanted. Technically, he could have shown her highly personal, private thoughts to Tana, mega-bitch roommate.

Keep calm
, Nellie told herself.
Get a grip. Deep freeze
.

Slowly the tight hot lines piercing her brain dissolved. Then she was hit by a new thought. If Westcott had been recording her private secret thoughts in Room Fourteen, then he’d been doing the same to everyone else. So he couldn’t have shown a recording of her thoughts to another cadet, because then he wouldn’t have been able to continue recording that cadet on the sly.

A gigantic shudder of relief coursed through Nellie, and she sank back in her chair. Well, she could live with Westcott and her instructors knowing what went on inside her head. They were her superiors after all, every one of them had been through Detta training and knew what was necessary to produce a functional cadet. Still, she didn’t like it, all these secrets going on behind her back. If she was one of their best cadets, why did they have to keep things from her?

Well, at least it wasn’t a secret any longer. And if Westcott knew her as well as she now realized was possible, Nellie thought grimly, he would probably have guessed where her thoughts were headed before she’d even left Room Fourteen. That meant their next session
was going to be a real humdinger. With a tiny smile, Nellie called up filing cabinet twenty-five in her head and placed her thoughts about Room Fourteen into drawer two, folder eight. Then, her mind cleared and ready for action, she focused on Col. Jolsen’s diagrams of the venor virus at the front of the room.

HEADED DOWN
the main hallway of the girls’ dorm after classes, Nellie traded insults with the girls gathered in bedroom doorways and dodged the odd missile aimed at her head. It was the usual after-school gauntlet, when dorm hallways became a barrage of jibes, flying objects and the odd physical encounter. Play for an Advanced cadet was an extension of the warfare they studied in classes, and Nellie loved it, her senses on high alert as she hurled insults in return, ducking and wheeling to avoid a shoe or hairbrush. Times like today, when she was really tuned, her mind leapt some kind of barrier and everything solid dissolved into a landscape of vibrations. When this happened, people and objects retained their usual outlines but were lit up with vivid pulsing colors, the bodies of nearby girls turning into multicolored fields with tendrils of excess energy rising from their backs. Even inanimate objects glowed as if alive and everything felt sped up, Nellie’s senses operating at triple their normal speed.

It wasn’t the same thing as scanning vibes — this energy was too huge and raw for something that fine-tuned. Still, the whole thing was a real rush, especially the way it allowed her to pick up instantaneously on what was happening behind her. Right now, for instance, she didn’t have to look over her shoulder to keep track of the two girls she’d just passed, she simply had to remain alert to any surge in energy. An abrupt explosion of heat from their vicinity made it easy to predict the mass of vibrations that came sailing toward her head, and with a grin Nellie ducked the flying book, not even glancing up as it sailed past and on down the hall.

“Third eye,” the two girls hollered. “You’re a witch, Kinnan, a witch.”

Without looking back, Nellie gave them a casual over-the-shoulder wave. As far as she could tell, none of the other cadets were able to read vibes, nor were any of her instructors. So no one had caught on to how she could sometimes sidestep flying objects and tackles from behind with apparent ease — at least she hadn’t told anyone. A sudden thought hit Nellie and she slowed her pace, a frown creasing her forehead. Was it possible Westcott had figured out her vibe-reading ability? He’d never hinted at it, not even once, but that didn’t mean much.

As she turned off the main hall into the smaller corridor that led to her room, walls and objects began to lose their inner glow and return to their normal state. The passageway stretched ahead, empty and quiet, except for a security alarm that beeped faintly overhead. Whistling, Nellie slipped a package of oolaga candy from her pocket and tilted it into her mouth. Today the snack machine had flashed a vivid orange message after dispensing the candy:
Warning — your account is now overdrawn.
It was two more days until the candy codes were updated. This meant a massive sugar withdrawal tomorrow, but she wasn’t doing too badly. Usually she was overdrawn a week ahead of schedule.

From behind came the sound of running footsteps, and suddenly Nellie was staggering under the weight of a body that clung to her back. Twisting to the right, she butted it gently against the nearest wall. As soon as she’d heard the approaching footfalls, Nellie had recognized their pattern. Besides, there was only one person who would dare jump her from behind. Anyone else would have been flat on the floor by now, their jugular in major crisis. No exceptions.

“Gotcha again, asteroid brain.” Slipping off Nellie’s back, Lierin flipped back her long black hair. “Lucky I’m not an Outbacker,” she giggled, “or you’d be terminated.”

Nellie gave her an answering grin. Lierin was a functional cadet, but her skills were low-level. Sometimes she flinched at the most basic things in the maze. Lt. Neem was always on her back, ranting at her to upgrade defense. All in all, her ego could use the odd boost.

“Yeah,” Nellie shrugged. “Terminated, but good.”

Lierin flushed with pride. “C’mon,” she said, turning and heading through the security beam in Nellie’s bedroom doorway. “Let’s watch
Star Heat
.”

Quickly Nellie followed her through the doorway. None of the bedrooms had doors, which meant there were only the security beams to keep the unwelcome from entering. To get into another girl’s room, you had to pass your
ID
chip through the beam just after she’d punched an acceptance code into a small mechanism attached to the wall inside the door. She could give you a one-time entry or register you as a general pass, which meant you could come and go as you wished. Lierin was the only person Nellie had given a general pass to her room. Well ... and Duikstra, and anyone with upper-level Detta clearance. Everyone else would be left stunned and senseless on the floor.

Pausing in front of the alcove by the doorway, Lierin bobbed her head perfunctorily at the tiny blue-robed statue. Then she launched herself through Tana’s half of the room, around the end of the barricade and onto Nellie’s bed. “So, where’s your favorite roomie?” she hollered.

Kneeling before the statue, Nellie kissed the hem of its robe. As she got to her feet again a click sounded, followed by the sound of rapid dialogue, and she realized Lierin had used the remote lying on her bed to switch the monitoring screen to its TV function. Carefully she snuck up to the barricade and found her friend in a headstand, watching
Star Heat
from an upside-down perspective. With a half-grin, Nellie kicked the end of the bed, then ducked back as Lierin lost her balance and toppled lengthwise.

“So where is she?” repeated her friend, staring out of a mass of tangled dark hair. “I want to know when I have to brace myself for Instant War.”

“Probably in one of the Pleasure Rooms,” shrugged Nellie. “Since she turned sixteen, they upgraded her to three visits a week.”

“Not bad,” said Lierin, wriggling to the head of the bed and glueing her eyes to the monitoring screen. “Who’s she with?”

“Could be anyone.” Dropping onto the end of the bed, Nellie added significantly, “Anyone
available.”

Lierin shot her a grin. “So, who’s the first guy you’re going to ask? Phillip?”

“Friends aren’t good for the Pleasure Rooms,” Nellie said, automatically repeating one of the laws of sexual behavior they’d learned in Social Studies. There seemed to be an endless list of them, but this law was definitely one of the basics. She gave herself a tiny grin. Her thirteenth birthday was in three months. When a cadet turned thirteen, she was implanted with a birth control chip and given a once-a-week pass to the Pleasure Rooms. She was free to choose any partner she wished, but variety was encouraged — a steady sex partner was heavily frowned upon.

Oh yeah
, thought Nellie.
Variety.
That was fine with her.

Suddenly she was hit with a new thought. What if Westcott figured out a way to read her mind while she was in the Pleasure Rooms? The possibility left her stunned. Carefully she shot Lierin a sideways glance. Should she tell her about this afternoon? Mind-reading technology was certain to be considered one of Detta’s security secrets and forbidden for casual conversation. But the experience had been so weird, and she was longing to tell someone.

Nellie shot her friend another careful glance. “Lierin,” she said slowly.

“Uh-huh?” mumbled Lierin. Riveted to the scantily clad figures on the monitoring screen, her eyes were heavy lidded, deep
in
Star Heat
trance. The afternoon soap was rated number one by teenagers in cities across the Interior.

“Well ... ,” Nellie faltered, her heart kicking at her throat. “This afternoon I had a session with Westcott.”

“Oh yeah,” said Lierin, without glancing away from the screen. “So?”

“So,” said Nellie, then fell headlong into silence. How in the sweet Goddess’s name was she supposed to explain this one — Westcott and Juba were mad scientists and Room Fourteen a mind-reading lab? It was impossible,
insane
. Lierin would think she was crazy. And crazy cadets — well, there were stories about what happened to them. If a cadet went over the edge she was considered no longer functional but couldn’t be discharged into the general population because of her knowledge of Detta’s programs. Rumor had it they were sent to the experimental labs in K Block. Some of the experiments held there were supposed to be so difficult, only a cadet with Advanced training could handle them. Nellie swallowed. It would be smartest to say nothing, but she
wanted
to talk about it. Besides, Lierin had a lot of common sense. She would know what to think about something like this.

“Well,” Nellie said again, forcing herself to speak calmly. “I was in the middle of a session in the Relaxer, and ... “

“And what?”
Star Heat
took a break for ads and Lierin began idly clicking the channel changer.

“And, well ... “ Hunched over her stomach, Nellie wrapped her arms tightly around her knees. Carefully, very carefully she added, “Well, I think the Relaxer helps Westcott somehow read our minds.”

“Oh yeah,” Lierin said casually. In the silence that followed, Nellie glanced up to find her friend’s eyes still riveted to the monitoring screen, all expression erased from her face.

“Hey.” Nellie’s voice wobbled, but she plunged on. “Did you hear what I said? Westcott is using the Relaxer helmet to read the thoughts inside our heads.”

Eyes wide and unblinking, Lierin turned to look at her. “You’re just horny,” she said slowly. “You’ve been spending too much time turning Westcott on with your snake fantasies.”

A wall of shock slammed into Nellie’s brain. “What’s that got to do with it?” she spluttered.

Lierin shrugged. “Your mind’s twisted. No big deal — you’ve always been twisted.”

“Yeah, but ... “ Ordinarily Nellie would have taken this as a compliment, but nothing about this was ordinary. “He really did read my thoughts,” she insisted carefully. “I’m sure of it.”

Lierin stared, her face blank. “C’mon, Nells,” she said finally. “I’m not Westcott. You don’t have to make up stories for me.”

Nellie counted heartbeats. “It happened,” she insisted dully. “He read my thoughts with that helmet.”