Privileged (Talented Saga Book 7)

  Privileged

  Sophie Davis

  Copyright © 2016 by Sophie Davis Books

  Amazon Edition

  Talented (Talented Saga #1)

  Caged (Talented Saga #2)

  Hunted (Talented Saga #3)

  Captivated (A Talented Novella) (Talented Saga #3.5)

  Created (Talented Saga #4)

  Exiled: Kenly’s Story (Talented Saga #5)

  Marked (Talented Saga #6)

  Privileged (Talented Saga #7)

  Fated (Talented Saga #8)

  Pawn (Nightmares Trilogy #1)

  Sacrifice (Nightmares Trilogy #2)

  Checkmate (Nightmares Trilogy #3)

  Fragile Façade (Blind Barriers Trilogy #1)

  Platinum Prey (Blind Barriers Trilogy #2)

  Vacant Voices (Blind Barriers Trilogy #3)

  The Syndicate (Timewaves Series #1)

  Atlic (Timewaves Series #2)

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  About Sophie Davis

  Isle of Exile

  Four Days Before the Vote

  “The United States can accommodate ten thousand of the refugees,” Ian Crane declared.

  “Oh, is that all?” Amberly Azevedo, the Portuguese councilwoman, asked dryly. She arched her dark eyebrows. “I would think a country the size of yours could welcome more.”

  The American representative to the UNITED council ignored Amberly’s snide remark, addressing the rest of the assembly instead. Delegates from each member country were gathered around an expansive conference table, either physically or via hologram, for the impromptu meeting.

  “The combined effects of the battle against TOXIC and the introduction of Created talents have altered the political climate in my country. I’m sure all of you have seen a similar impact in your own,” Ian stated.

  Several of the UNITED council members nodded in agreement.

  “The American people are wary of the Talented these days,” Ian continued. “The ‘norms’—a term that is gaining popularity—regard all Talented as a threat; they aren’t able to distinguish between natural-born Talents and the chaos-loving Created.

  “Nonetheless, our government still intends to treat the Talented favorably, just as we always have. They will be granted the same rights and privileges as every other American citizen, regardless of the Joint Nations’ decision on the Coexistence Treaty.” Ian’s gaze landed on Amberly. “That being said, there is simply not room or funding for more than ten thousand refugees.”

  “That number is very generous, Ian,” Victoria Walburton said firmly. The head of the UNITED council eyed Amberly contemptuously. The two women had been at odds since the meeting started, and Victoria was certain that the animosity would escalate before the session concluded.

  Turning to the German representative, Victoria posed the same question she had to Ian Crane. “Councilman Neumann, how many refugees can your country accommodate?”

  The man tented his short holographic fingers and stared back at Victoria from beneath caterpillar-like eyebrows. “The German government feels this talk of refugees is premature,” he replied, carefully avoiding the question.

  Victoria sighed, masking her irritation with a thin-lipped smile.

  “That is not what I asked, Alois,” she said calmly. “UNITED needs to prepare for the worst-case scenario, no matter how remote the possibility may seem. If the Coexistence Treaty is not upheld, UNITED is facing the very real issue of where to house nearly one hundred thousand Talented citizens.”

  “Honestly Victoria, how likely is it that the Joint Nations will vote against the treaty?” inquired Councilwoman Charlene Prinsloo, the South African representative. “It is my understanding that they willingly approved UNITED’s petition to delay the vote by thirty days, granting us the additional time to campaign for the treaty’s renewal in the wake of the Created. Many of the Joint Nations’ delegates have also publically supported our efforts. They have regularly attended peace rallies. Several even held formal gatherings in their home territories to dispel the people’s fears. Those are not the actions of adversaries, but rather allies. I am inclined to agree with Alois—the discussion of housing refugees is inappropriate at this juncture. The Joint Nations has always passed the Coexistence Treaty. Do you really think it will be so different this time?”

  “The odds of failure are slim…” Victoria started reluctantly. There was no point in lying; the council had the same data that she did. “But I—”

  “I believe you mean that the odds of failure are negligible,” interjected the Russian representative, a middle-aged man named Alexi Astakhov. “The current data calculates to only a fourteen percent chance that it will not be renewed. That is significantly more promising than the initial figure of,” Alexi consulted his communicator, “a seventy-seven percent likelihood of failure.”

  It was true that the odds of success had increased, due to both never-ending peace rallies and the capture and containment of several hundred Created. But Victoria couldn’t forget the feeling of terror that had overcome her when she’d read the preliminary numbers almost thirty days ago. They’d had less than a one-in-four chance of preventing total exile of all Talented from the countries represented by the Joint Nations. In no uncertain terms, it would be utterly devastating to their race if the treaty was not renewed; their fight for acceptance would become an all-out war for survival.

  “I would hardly call fourteen percent ‘negligible,’” a soft male voice spoke up. “That figure is three times higher than the data from any of the previous voting years. UNITED does have cause for concern, and devising a plan to protect our brethren is never a waste of time. After all, is it not our duty to serve and protect the Talented citizens of the world? I cannot recall a time when they have needed us more.”

  Victoria spared a grateful glance at the speaker, Councilman Michael Tanaka. Though quiet and reserved, the Japanese representative had a commanding presence. Michael was the most sensible of her colleagues, and Victoria was thankful for his support.

  “Well said, Michael,” Ian replied approvingly.

  Several of the other council members nodded in agreement, though not everyone was done arguing.

  “But isn’t it likely that the odds of success will continue to grow? Just as they have done every day for the last month?” Alexi asked, undeterred by Michael’s statements. Again, the Russian councilman consulted his communicator. “Agent Erikson Kelley has made impressive strides towards counteracting the unrest caused by the rogue Created. Public opinion has quadrupled over the last month. And, judging by their actions, a majority of the Joint Nations’ delegates appear to be in favor of renewal. So why convene the council now? What are you not telling us?” Alexi’s dark eyes studied Victoria intently, as though searching for signs of deception.

  Praying for the patience to make it through the meeting with
out mauling one of her colleagues, Victoria clasped her hands tightly. Being a Morpher, when her claws came out, there was nothing metaphoric about it. Victoria offered Councilman Astakhov a cold smile.

  “I have told you all I know about the treaty vote, Alexi,” she said firmly. “I convened the council because, as Michael said, it is our duty to serve and protect the Talented. Part of that duty is to anticipate potential issues and devise solutions before a minor concern becomes an epic crisis.

  “Yes, the treaty is likely to pass as of this moment,” Victoria continued evenly, once again addressing the entire table. “But even if that is to happen, even if the outcome that we are all hoping for and working towards comes to fruition, the terms and conditions of the treaty might be altered or appended. The Joint Nations may decide to downgrade the few rights and privileges we’re explicitly granted, to appease the very vocal factions who want our kind to be exiled entirely. Many of the countries that choose not to have a delegate on this council will jump at the opportunity to lawfully treat Talents like rubbish. Even if the treaty passes, thousands of Talented may still be displaced. Shouldn’t we prepare for every scenario?”

  The Russian delegate audibly scoffed at Victoria’s words.

  “Or they could choose to elevate our status to equal citizens in all member nations, as this council has asked for them to do,” Alexi argued. “If the Joint Nations’ representatives are truly our allies, as Charlene purports, I believe there is a good chance that this vote will finally grant us totally equality.”

  “Of course total equality is the outcome UNITED is hoping for,” Victoria countered, annoyed by Alexi’s need to constantly undermine her. She raked her icy gaze over the Russian councilman. “But need I remind you that this council has proposed those exact same amendments every year the treaty renewal is up for a vote? Never once has the Joint Nations seriously considered upgrading our status. I do not hold my breath that this year, of all years, will be the one to turn our dreams into reality.”

  Every second that passed without accomplishing anything was a moment they didn’t have to waste, and Victoria’s frustration was mounting. She couldn’t believe that Alexi was stubbornly holding up the meeting for the sake of being argumentative; the odds of total exile were statistically higher than the odds of total equality, so it was simply illogical to plan for the latter while ignoring the former.

  It wasn’t that Victoria didn’t understand the reticence of the council to spend time planning for a worst-case scenario. In fact, she was painfully aware of the pressing matters that vied for their attention in these final critical days. What irritated Victoria was that many of the delegates, like Alexi, were choosing to hide their heads in the sand, skating along on optimism and hope. Ignoring reality was a luxury they simply could not afford.

  Victoria had reached the end of her patience. She rose slowly to her feet, placing her palms flat against the glass table and staring daggers at Alexi Astakhov. Then Victoria panned the rest of the conference table, holding each set of eyes for several heartbeats before continuing.

  “As head of this council, I do not need to justify my actions. Whether you agree or disagree with the purpose of this meeting is of no consequence. My authority here is not a power that I take lightly, but I will use it to uphold the oath we took to protect the Talented. We are all here, and the sooner we get the numbers settled, the sooner we can move on to other matters.” Victoria smoothed nonexistent wrinkles in her tailored jacket and eased back down into her chair. “Now, I ask you again, Councilman Neumann, how many Talented will Germany welcome? Do you have accommodations prepared?”

  Alois Neumann bristled. “There is an old football stadium in Leipzig that is no longer in use. It is scheduled for demolition early next year, but I suppose we can delay that event, if need be. I believe that the capacity would be approximately eight hundred people. We will erect temporary encampments in the stadium until we are able to secure more permanent housing.”

  Victoria entered the figure into the data-tracking program on her communicator, and then turned to Charlene.

  “Councilwoman Prinsloo? Do you have a figure for South Africa? Where will refugees be housed?”

  “The Naidoo Wildlife Reserve for Exotic and Endangered Animals is a privately owned and operated preservation center outside of Pretoria that has offered sanctuary to displaced Talents in the past,” Charlene began. “The current head of operations is Talented, so I do believe she would be amenable to repeating the goodwill gesture. I will confirm this with her when we are finished here. They previously took in nearly two thousand refugees during the last civil uprising in Botswana. It is safe to assume their capacity would be the same now.”

  “Does the South African government have public facilities available to house refugees?” Victoria pressed. South Africa had always been a Talent-friendly nation, so Victoria found their government’s reluctance to offer assistance odd.

  “At most, we can provide for an additional five hundred Talented,” Charlene replied, emphasizing the last word.

  It was a problem Victoria had anticipated. While every country with a representative on the UNITED council would open their doors to the Talented, some would not extend the same courtesy to the Created. In general, that was fine, since UNITED planned to keep the majority of the Created in containment on the Isle of Exile until they could “cure” them by reversing the effects of the creation drug. But space was a limited commodity on the islands, and Victoria had hoped that a few other countries would set up containment facilities of their own. At least she could count on the U.S. in that respect. Ian Crane had several notable doctors and scientists on his payroll who were already working diligently to develop a reversal drug. They would likely welcome Created, if for no other reason than to have more test subjects for their research.

  “That brings South Africa’s total to twenty-five hundred Talented,” Victoria confirmed, entering the number. Charlene opened her mouth to speak, but Victoria cut her off. “I understand; no Created will be sent to you.”

  Councilwoman Prinsloo nodded, satisfied, and Victoria moved on to the Frenchman sitting on Charlene’s right. Barbar Belaire held up three fingers.

  “France will take three thousand. We are still deciding on the best location for a temporary camp. Depending on our selection, it may be possible for my country to accommodate more. I will know definitively by tomorrow,” Barbar said, his tone all business.

  “Thank you, Barbar,” Victoria replied gratefully, her attention already moving on to the next council member.

  As she continued around the table, it pleased Victoria to learn that an overwhelming majority of the council members already had concrete plans in place for the possibility of mass relocation. The Japanese government was not only graciously accepting three thousand people, but their soldiers were primed to provide military escorts for each of the refugees from their current locations, ensuring the safe travels of their new citizens.

  Switzerland was also preparing for the possibility of failure, and had spent the past thirty days repairing homes and restoring facilities in the deserted town of Interlaken. The two thousand refugees that could be accommodated there would be more fortunate than others; they’d be living a world away from persecution in their own town of Talents, nestled among the beautiful Swiss Alps.

  It took just over an hour—much longer than anticipated—for Victoria to collect the necessary information from each council member. As she weighed the numbers with a sinking heart, Michael Tanka spoke up.

  “It appears we are lacking accommodations for twenty-five thousand Talents,” the Japanese councilman said quietly, his higher reasoning ability having calculated the figures as quickly as her communicator. “However, we have yet to factor in any available space on the islands.”

  All eyes turned to Victoria. Though the capacity of the Isle should have been the council’s first talking point, she’d purposefully held off. Victoria had been hoping to avoid the discussion that the total
s now necessitated.

  “The Isle of Exile has space for fifteen thousand refugees,” Victoria said, directing her response to Michael. “That figure includes the new accommodations on the uninhabited islands, Hope and Newhaven, as well as the tent encampments we voted to erect at the last meeting.”

  “Oh, the Isle has room for more than that,” Amberly interjected knowingly.

  And so it begins, Victoria thought. This was the moment she’d been dreading since Amberly first presented Proposition 2690—the Portuguese councilwoman’s solution to the shortage of refugee housing options.

  Victoria schooled her expression into a blank mask, steeling herself for the argument looming on the horizon.

  “Or, rather, the Isle can make room for more,” Amberly baited.

  Curious mutterings rippled around the conference table. Instead of elaborating, Amberly looked to the head of the table and smiled thinly at Victoria.

  Resigned to being the messenger—the messenger that at least half of the council would undoubtedly want to shoot after reading Proposition 2690—Victoria tapped a sequence of keys on the tabletop comm system.

  “Councilwoman Azevedo has made a formal proposition that she wishes to put before the council,” Victoria began. “I have just sent a copy to each of your communicators. Take a moment to read through the document, and then we will discuss.”

  Victoria knew the precise instant that the fastest readers at the table finished wading through the boilerplate legalese at the beginning of the proposal and reached the merits of Amberly’s scheme; the moment was marked with shocked gasps, indignant scoffs, and Michael uttering a quiet prayer in Japanese.

  Sensing that the time had come to plead her case, Amberly stood, effectively drawing the council’s undivided attention.

  “As you all are aware, UNITED devotes an entire island of the Isle of Exile to housing criminals—Vault,” she began. “Currently, there are forty-five hundred detainees on Vault. Each and every one of these Talents was found guilty of breaking our laws. Even with all of us welcoming as many refugees as our countries can accommodate, there are roughly ten thousand that we do not have places for. Those ten thousand are innocent men, women, and children. By downsizing Vault’s population, we can provide homes for almost half of those guiltless Talents.”