turned back, he continued. “The coil problem we had was fixed. By us. Not that anyone was concerned. Not like we matter.”
Barton nodded. No need to add gas to the flame. He placed his hand on a tube and felt the vibration. “What can you teach me about this? What can you show me?”
The mechanic stared at Barton for a second, before he realized Barton was serious. He chuckled then, rolling his eyes. His head twitched for a few seconds, painfully.
“You’re serious. You mean to tell me you don’t even know what you’re looking at? You don’t even know what is holding this wreck together?” The laughter was gone. “It was your inventions! Have you lost your mind or something? Has it really been that long since your hands were dirty? Must be nice up there. Nice enough to forget what’s keeping us alive.”
Barton felt his body get hot. He held his temper. “I’ve been busy with other things. Maybe you can enlighten me?”
“Go back to doing what you can, doctor. We don’t need you down here.”
The mechanic wouldn’t budge. His bitterness went deep.
Barton watched the mechanic shake his head and thought for a second that he would twist his scrawny neck around until it came off. “Maybe I can help you in return? I could work on your neck, perhaps?”
Barton stepped forward. The mechanic turned to the side, ashamed of his problem. His attitude was calmer when he turned back to Barton.
“What do you want to know?”
“Tell me everything. Anything. I want to know what you know.”
“Why?” the mechanic was now concerned for his job.
“I want to be able to help you by making things easier.” Barton smiled.
The mechanic took a few seconds to think it over. He sighed, then gave in.
“The solution was created to be a protective barrier around the ship. You all developed the machines inside to fill in any breaks, or uphold the cracks or prevent collapse. It is quite remarkable, really.”
Barton stopped within reach. The other’s eyes were wide with concern. “What machines?”
“They make up the liquid cerebrum. I don’t know what you call them…tiny machines, programmed for specific duties.”
Barton understood. He had seen enough of them. “What do you do with them?”
“You really don’t know?” The mechanic thought it wise to keep his tongue. Give him his answers and get him out of there. A scientist with no brain, he thought.
“The ship has an exoskeleton. In order to hold up the pressure against it, your machines were introduced into it. It’s alive now.”
He made motions with his hands, one covering the other. “It’s jelled into one form which expands and contracts from the pressure to always hold. Without it, we would surely die. The ship would be crushed from the cold weight. My job is to ensure that the temperature remains stable. In a hot environment, the machines become dormant. They don’t work.”
He looked curiously at Barton. “That part you knew, right?”
Barton nodded. “I’ve never seen this before. Not firsthand, anyway.”
Silence followed. Barton stared into the solution, thinking dark thoughts.
He turned suddenly to the mechanic, as if he remembered the other was present. “How are you maintaining their temperature?”
The mechanic pointed to the base of the tubes. A coiled wire ran from a black box into the tube. “Heating coils. Controlled. Checked hourly, by me. They won’t fail.”
“And if the temperature changes dramatically, then they die and the system faults.”
The mechanic shrugged. “That’s a friendly way of saying we’ll all be crushed to death.”
“And where do you control this coil?” Barton turned back to stare at the mechanic.
“The main control unit. Down the hall.”
Barton smiled. He had an idea. “Thanks for your help.”
The mechanic leaned in, pushing the bulge on his neck outward, indicating to Barton that he needed to be paid for the information. Barton smiled and stepped closer to him.
The mechanic saw into Barton’s eyes and realized he had made a grave error in judgment. “Who are…?” He frantically reached for his tool, but Barton was quicker. There was no struggle.
With the mechanic dead, Barton began to remove his uniform.
T W E N T Y - T H R E E
Darryl opened his eyes. His sight was blurry and the lights shining overhead did little to ease his throbbing head or clear his sight. He was in bed, tired, sore and weak. It was a different room, he noticed. There were more machines, more monitors and devices mounted against the wall than in his previous room. The hard bed felt the same though. He couldn’t get comfortable.
He rubbed the sleep from his eyes until his vision cleared. He yawned deeply. Though awake, he found himself struggling to remain so. He turned slightly towards the door and stopped almost instantly. A sharp pain in his side sent him back. He grimaced, groaning deeply.
He closed his eyes against the pain. It was in his chest and throughout his lower extremities. He grimaced and slowly opened his eyes. “What’s wrong with me?”
Doctor Whitmere appeared at the foot of the bed. His face was nearly expressionless.
“Doctor?” Darryl looked up at the old man. “What happened?”
“Where is he?” Whitmere asked sternly.
“What are you talking about?”
With eyes like burning coals, Whitmere swept down and pressed his body against the bed, lowering his face close to Darryl’s. Gone were the friendly eyes. Missing was the care and gentleness that seemed so evident before. It was a side of Whitmere that Darryl didn’t believe could exist.
“Doctor Barton. Where did you see him? Where is he hiding?”
Confusion masked Darryl’s face, fear held his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never saw him. It was Adelle I found.”
Darryl drifted, remembering what had taken place. His face fell in sadness.
Whitmere had no sympathy.
“The guards found you in the lower cells. Four others were found dead. Now you’re telling me that Barton had no part in this? Did you and her kill them?”
Darryl shrank. “They were already dead when I found them. Then Adelle walked out of the room…”
Whitmere straightened. His arms folded across his chest. His eyebrows slanted down over his beady, angry eyes, beads of sweat formed against his bald head. “I’m running blood samples on you now. I’ll be back for tissue samples in a few minutes. Then I’ll know if you had contact with him or not. But it won’t matter. When I come back I’m going to begin intraphasing. Don’t get out of the bed.”
“I’m sorry,” Darryl replied. “I just needed to find her.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore. Time for all of this has expired. I need to prove to the Council once and for all that I am handling this project. Barton will be found and dealt with regardless. He cannot hide forever. The focus now will be on you two.” Whitmere turned away. “I’ve got work to do.”
“Wait. Where is she?” Darryl’s eyes filled with worry. “What happened to her?”
Whitmere turned back towards him. He glared momentarily, then pointed beside Darryl. “She’s spent a lot of time with the enemy. He’s changed her like himself. But I’ll make her right. Even if it kills her.”
Darryl turned quickly, surprised to see Adelle in a bed beside him. He turned back to ask Whitmere questions, but he was no longer in the room. His head spun back to the side, staring at the girl he was in love with.
Adelle rested on her back not moving. Sweat covered her face and neck, shining over the dirty patches. A machine hovered over her, with thin tubes dangling from it, needles attached and waiting.
Darryl’s heart broke. He had caused this, he knew. He was so focused on Barton, that his emotions got the best of him. He had never suspected it was Adelle walking out of the room. Looking at her now, he wasn’t sure he could ever forgive himself.
“Adelle?” he whispered.
Nothing. She remained motionless.
“Adelle?” his voice was laced in regret.
The results were the same.
Darryl sighed. “I’m going to help you in any way I can. Forgive me.”
Darryl stared at her for a long while afterwards. He studied her face until it seemed that he even saw it when he blinked.
“Hold still.” A man’s voice spoke suddenly and Darryl jumped. He had no idea someone else was in the room.
A male nurse pressed a small injection gun against his left forearm and gave him a shot. It was painful, but quick.
“Here.” He said in a fashion to make no mistake that Darryl had no choice.
Darryl opened his hand as the nurse dropped two orange pills into his palm. The nurse walked out without anything further. He didn’t need to. Darryl understood.
He stared at the pills for a second and almost took them. But he remembered Adelle’s warning. As he stared at her now, he couldn’t do anything but obey her plea. He crushed the pills into a powder and blew them off into the air.
“Adelle?” he whispered again. “I love you. Forgive me.”
Still nothing.
Darryl sighed heavily. Things in the room began to look wobbly. Seconds later his vision began to spin so violently that he shut his eyes and waited for it to lessen. It didn’t. Within a few moments, he was asleep.
Doctor Whitmere walked back to his lab to compare the blood samples from Darryl and Adelle. Barton had gotten to her, he knew. The evidence was obvious. The girl was no longer phasing; she was nearly as they found her. He knew what it meant. He knew what it took for the girl to be changed. Barton had found the cure; Barton cured
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