Variant: A science fiction thriller (The Predictive: Deep Space Fringe Wars Book 2)

by L. V. Lane

  This was my life now. Reduced to a series of inconsequential moments that lead to a pointless endgame. There was no way of knowing what the doctor might be getting out of these bizarre and excessive question sessions, but it had disturbed me from the outset. I wasn’t a doctor, but I’d studied psychology to a lesser degree since it complimented my skills. Even without using my predictive capability, I knew the doctor was going about the process wrong.

  What I didn’t know was why.

  My future predictive capability had yet to manifest, and they had kept me so isolated, there was little opportunity to change that. The only person I interacted with, besides the occasional visit from Jax, was the doctor.

  Unfortunately, those conversations were constrained on the part of the doctor. At least Jax provided some updates.

  “Can I see Riley? What about Rachel?”

  Shenson’s posture stiffened ever so slightly in her seat. “I don’t think that would be a good idea as yet.”

  I’d known the doctor would say no, but my instincts told me to probe the decision today. “Why?”

  “Brent and I have discussed your prognosis in detail. Your continuing isolation is essential during this delicate stage of recovery.”

  “But why?”

  Shenson had mentioned Brent several times during our sessions. I was rational enough not to blame him, but there was, nevertheless, an irrational surge of anger that the doctor would discuss my situation with the responsible man.

  Shenson offered a cool, superior smile. “Healing takes time, Eva.”

  The renowned psychologist was being evasive and probably lying, too. But Shenson Sull wasn’t alone in this, Riley had also lied. I prided myself on being the master of spotting deception. I was now confident, and had been for a while, that Shenson, Riley, and everyone else within the colony genuinely believed my predictive ability to be irrevocably broken, and were keeping this knowledge from me.

  This retrospective prediction rang true. I trusted this ability had not been lost, just as I trusted my ability to subconsciously spot deception.

  What I did not have, however, was a future prediction that I had watched come to fruition. I’d had no future predictions at all.

  While each of my predictive skills had manifested during early childhood, future prediction had been the penultimate to develop, taking several years to perfect. Mass impact, or societal predictions, had been the final, and most profound, stage. To lose such a skill through a simple technical fault was a very bitter blow.

  Whatever reason Riley had in hiding knowledge of my disablement, I knew she had my best interests at heart, but the doctor’s actions, and her odd questioning lines, were producing a slight discord that suggested an underhanded motive.

  The doctor was being clever about it though. With deceit lacing the undertones of every conversation, it was near impossible for me to pinpoint the source of my predictive angst.

  For many days, I’d doubted myself. The incident had shattered a confidence once pervasive to my core. Perhaps the public side of my confidence might never return. It had only been a few months, but still, it had changed me.

  I harbored a strong conviction relating to the future that said revealing my knowledge of their deception would be a very bad idea. That left me at an impasse, though, for with so much subterfuge in every sentence spoken to me, it was impossible to ever test my predictive capability.

  But most troubling of all was this malaise surrounding Doctor Sull.

  “You haven’t had any predictive notions?” Shenson asked when my monologue of trivia dried up.

  “None, my work is isolated—” I left it hanging, and asked instead, “Should I be worried?”

  The doctor returned a gentle smile, but it lacked sincerity. “No, nothing to be worried about.”

  Trigger.

  Predictive truth: the doctor wanted me not to predict again.

  It took a momentous effort to compose myself, to smooth my face, and to maintain a normal expression while my heart thudded as if seeking to escape my chest.

  The prediction was absolute… Why would anyone wish me not to predict?

  I wanted to leave, to run from the room, and search for Landon or Eric, but something held me back, and with forced composure, I faced the doctor. “It’s been so long since the incident,” I said, and the words felt inadequate against the backdrop of my frantic state.

  The doctor reached for her viewer, tapping a series of commands I could not see. “I could give you some anti-depressants.”

  “No, I’m adjusting.” I wasn’t used to smothering a predictive notion and I was blundering through this.

  “I’ll hold on the antidepressants for now, then.” The doctor tapped abruptly against her viewer before benefitting me with a smile. “That’s excellent news, Eva.”

  Was it? Was it really excellent news? I wanted to reach over and slap the smiling doctor across the face, which was an impressive reaction from a pacifist.

  “I will update the Commander on your progress… Let’s talk again in the morning.”

  I left, my mind blank, confused when the first drops of rain hit my face. I fumbled to snap my shell armor shut, and ignoring the swift increase in the rainfall, headed out of the camp instead of back to the shelter of my tent.

  I made it to the trees before the rain quickened to torrential. I ran on to my personal hideaway. How am I going to get through more meetings with Shenson? I couldn’t, it would be impossible, deception was not part of my make-up, and I’d never found reason to embrace it before.

  My mad flight stopped abruptly, and I leaned against a tree, panting hard. I should tell Landon. This was too much for me to manage on my own. I must make him believe me… He had believed me before.

  Trigger.

  Prediction: he wouldn’t believe me. There was only one way this could play out. My predictions had once been treated with the utmost respect, and as the bearer of such tidings that respect had been mine to wield and command. Today, I was nothing, and I had nothing. My capability was re-emerging, but I was a child again as far as predicting was concerned.

  “He won’t believe me,” I whispered, the words lost in the roar of the rain. This understanding cut me down. It took several deep, lungfuls of air before I could force the oppressive sensation away.

  I started off again through a curtain of water that I pushed through with weary steps. The downpour was so great, it threatened to drive me to the ground, but I pressed on, more determined than ever to reach my goal.

  I needed to learn everything I could about the doctor, and why she didn’t want me to predict. But I also couldn’t afford to wait around to figure out what my psychologist was doing. Not when there were other, more pressing concerns, to deal with. Still, the mere thought of interacting with people brought my fears to the fore. I still felt insecure until I experienced a verified prediction. What if I can’t predict? What if I was the ordinary person Jax joked about, and Eric fears, and Landon and Lai are avoiding?

  Fear of failure remained sharp and insistent. If I don’t try, I will never know. For Riley, I must try. I am a predictive and I have never turned away nor hidden from that path.

  Stumbling to my knees as I emerged from the forest, I crawled the final distance to the safety of my favorite tree. Once there, I flopped back to sit down, panting with exhaustion. A huge branch jutted out, making a canopy of sorts that protected me from the worst of the rain.

  Understanding I was alone, there was only one thing I could do. I must continue going to the meetings and wait for the truth to be revealed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Landon

  NEWS OF THE lost drone weighed heavily as I headed for the command transport with Marik.

  “Could it be the weather?” I asked, already stalking in the direction of the technologist’s transport. I clipped my helmet on, leaving a gap in the visor. The sky remained murky, but the rain had softened to a drizzle.

  Marik made a scoffing noise. “Af
ter I found the reconnaissance team you sent to the city dead? Not likely.”

  “That wasn’t conclusive, and they hadn’t gotten very far,” I pointed out.

  “Their weapons were mangled,” Marik said as we hit the ramp to the transport. “Weapons don’t just mangle like that. Metal all bent and melted out of shape. We don’t have anything here that can do that kind of damage. Not that I’ve seen. Who else could it be?”

  “Marik, this isn’t the right time for this conversation. But after the damage I saw with the crashed transport, nothing surprises me, and that’s why I had Riley’s team checking all the tech, including weapons, for faults.”

  Marik dropped the topic as we entered the transport proper and found both Riley and Cathy staring at a viewer.

  “What happened?” I demanded. I nudged my head at the door when Marik made like he was settling in. “See if you can find Eric and send him over.”

  As Marik clomped back down the ramp, I redirected my attention to Riley.

  “We lost the signal,” Riley said without preamble. “No, it’s not weather related. We still have clear skies over the drone’s location. It just went dead, approximately three hundred out.”

  Marik’s discovery hung heavy in the air, but I wasn’t ready to share that with Riley.

  “Perhaps we could send a team in… to retrieve the drone?” Riley asked. “It might still yield images or data that could be useful.”

  “No,” I cut her off, and my tone suggested no discussion.

  Riley nodded, her face grave. Cathy had similarly lost her earlier joy.

  “We need to return focus to the communication,” I said. Footsteps alighting the ramp drew my gaze and I turned to find Eric approaching. “I know you’re both disappointed, we all are. We’ll speak again tomorrow, Riley.”

  Riley nodded again, and I motioned Eric to accompany me as I turned to leave.

  “What’s happened?” Eric asked the moment we were out.

  “Riley proposed we send a drone to investigate the city. After some consideration, I agreed.” I headed back into the forest where my office transport would be found. “The signal disappeared three hundred out.”

  “Crashed?” Eric asked.

  “After Marik’s report, I’m inclined to think more purposely destroyed.” The deaths of those I had sent to investigate by foot were by my command. As if we didn’t have enough problems of our own making, the reality of sharing a hostile plant with unknowns and technology far beyond our own, was giving me greater concerns. “We are running out of options. I took a risk. Unfortunately, one that did not pay off.”

  “Well, if nothing else, the drone has answered a question. If the city is not an option, better a lost drone than another team.”

  I nodded. “How was Base-7?”

  “Messy,” Eric replied. “And Brent has not made any headway.” His face brightened suddenly. “I know, why don’t we send him to retrieve the drone?”

  I huffed out a breath. “You need to let go of your irrational dislike of the man.”

  “Okay, well, he’s been fuck all use with the flu or digestive issues. He keeps saying he can find a solution, but he hasn’t. It’s time we let Rachel in on the problem. She’s a geneticist. We brought her here, may as well put her to use.”

  “I agree, Brent’s had a long enough stab at it.” I came to a halt outside my commandeered transport. It was getting late and the sky had begun to darken with both the onset of night and the threat of more rain. “Have you spoken to Eva recently?”

  Eric shook my head. “I was looking for her when Marik came over. I thought you had tabs on her?”

  “I do.”

  Eric grunted. “She’s not in her store transport. They’re locked up for the night. She’s not in her tent either. I called in on Doctor Sull, but she said Eva had left an hour ago.”

  Rain began to fall again, fat splats that sent us both ducking under the cover of the awning that stretched from the side of the transport. I smirked seeing a team of colonists dive for cover as it turned toward torrential. It was funny to watch—not so comical when it happened to you.

  My smile faded to a frown. Eva had taken to disappearing. I had caught her a couple of times sneaking back to her tent resembling a drowned version of the rat-like critter that infested the local area and plagued the camp seeking scraps. I squinted out into the heavy rain.

  “I think it’s getting to her,” Eric said. “You must admit the doctor’s desire to question her twice a day is a little excessive… Then there’s the camp and the people. She never really did the whole ‘people’ thing.” He made an absent-minded gesture at the clusters of colonists taking shelter. “She doesn’t go very far.”

  I knew exactly where she would be—where she went a lot lately. “Her recent, and dangerous, fascination with that outcropping is starting to wear thin. Insta-shelter?”

  Eric shucked his backpack off and pulled the rod from the side pocket. “The storm’s picking up.” He grinned as he handed it over.

  I took the proffered item as I snapped my visor down. Clipping my shell armor shut, I headed out into the storm.

  My knees buckled with the first step. I’d gotten used to the pounding, but that didn’t make it any easier. The ground, which was rock hard when the sun returned, had transitioned into mud-bath under the watery onslaught and I slid my way across the clearing until I reached the trees.

  It was marginally better once I hit the tree line. Marginally, because it did break up the downpour, but in doing so, it concentrated the flood into ferocious cascades. While these miniature waterfalls could be avoided, they also tended to shift direction and intensity without warning as the water built up and then released from the super-sized leaves.

  I was congratulating myself on my lightning reflexes in missing a dozen such sudden flow deviations, when one struck. Flattened to the muddy ground, I gasped for air when a crack opened in my visor and water poured in. I rolled, and finally escaping the brunt of it, I dragged myself to my hands and knees fumbling for the dropped shelter rod.

  I coughed and shook my head, the water gushing from my open helmet. Cursing myself for not clipping the visor shut properly, I staggered to my feet. Everything squelched. Confident the water had found its way into every nook of my armor, I stomped off again toward the chasm.

  The trees thinned as I arrived at the gray, rain-enthused outcropping. I spotted her within seconds, huddled under a tree with her knees drawn tight to her chest. I was conversely relieved to spot her, and annoyed to see her so close to the edge, that could, and probably would, be ripped away imminently during a downpour.

  Aware that my temper was closer to the surface than it should be, I drew a calming breath. At least she was wearing the shell armor that Eric mentioned her complaining so rigorously about. I stalked over, taking unhealthy pleasure in causing her to start. Ramming the insta-shelter into the sodden ground beside her, I hit the auto-release.

  The cover sprang into place, creating an umbrella that redirected the pouring rain over the surrounding area… and me. Bracing myself, I pushed through the gush and slumped down beside her.

  I flipped my visor up before taking my helmet off. Wiping a hand over my face and hair alleviated a small amount of irritation.

  A few seconds later, Eva lifted her visor too and cast a wary glance my way.

  “You were bored in the camp?” I half-shouted through the drum of rain. “Needed a bit of excitement?”

  She turned her face away, staring to where the mist and spray and rain clashed over the great gorge. “People.”

  “People? So, we’re having a one word conversation. Shall I guess the answer? I know you are missing people and wish to volunteer for food preparation duties for the next thirty days! Done. You can start tonight.”

  She mouthed words lost under the thunderous roar of the rain. Finally, she gave up whatever she was trying to express and turned away with a dejected slump to her shoulders.

  Then she put her hand on
my thigh.

  I looked at her hand. I couldn’t feel much through the shell armor, but it still felt intimate and distracting such that I forgot I was angry until her fingers tightened enough to make the shell plates pinch.

  I glanced up to find a sleek, black furred cat staring at us from twenty paces away. Coat sodden, the cat blinked golden eyes at us through the unrelenting rain. I eased my PB from its holster as a precaution. When they moved, they moved fast.

  After a long few seconds, during which Eva’s tension manifested a death grip on my leg, it swung its giant head to the left and took off at a trot.

  “And you would definitely have brought a weapon with you.” I gave a pointed look down, although I knew the answer.

  She snatched her hand from my leg and her brows drew together. “What are you angry about?” she shouted back over the tumult, except the rain chose that moment to cease and the last word was loud enough to make me wince.

  “Nothing,” I said. “I was simply concerned about your welfare.” This was our first real conversation since our arrival. It was long overdue. I’d hoped for something more civilized, but that wasn’t going quite to plan. She wasn’t equipped for an ordinary life. Had the colonization process followed the standard pattern, she would have been one of the last people brought to the surface.

  “Please, don’t make me do food prep.” There was a note of panic in her voice. I felt bad about putting it there, but not enough to let her off.

  I stood, hitting the closure on the insta-shelter, and showering us both. “We’re going back to the camp where we will talk. And if I find you here again, I will assume you really do want to help with the food preparation.”

  “Talk?” There was the tiniest hint of a smile as she rose to her feet, sending me a questioning look.

  My brows drew together. “Why do I have a feeling you’re predicting?”