by RS McCoy
“Hey, you’re doing great,” Mable continued. “Seriously.”
Dasia could feel Mable’s eyes on her, soaking in the features of her face like she’d never seen them before. Then, Mable leaned forward and kissed Dasia’s lips. Gentle fingertips skimmed her cheek, a tiny touch that made her heart race. They kissed a thousand times, night after night, sometimes for hours. But this one was different.
“I finished the Gleam spec—Uh, do you guys need a minute?” Theo asked, standing frozen in the aisle, his eyebrows sky high with surprise.
“We’re good,” Mable smiled and blinked her eyes open again.
Dasia agreed. “We’re good. See you tonight?”
“Yeah, let me walk you out.”
“No, that’s okay. You’re busy,” Dasia protested, but Mable was already up. She linked her elbow with Dasia’s.
“I insist.”
Dasia smiled and let Mable walk her to the door. There was no arguing with her.
“I’m glad you came up,” Mable said as they walked. She tipped her head to rest on Dasia’s shoulder.
“I’m glad you asked me to. I don’t ever see you anymore.”
“You’ll see me tonight.” Mable straightened up and shot her a mischievous look. “And all the nights you want.”
Dasia stepped into the corridor and pressed the elevator button. “All the nights I want? I think you underestimate how much I want this.” She squeezed Mable’s hand and smiled at her own joke.
Mable stood on her toes to reach up and kiss her. “Good. I want this, too.”
SILAS
OLYMPUS GENETICS FACILITY, OLYMPUS, NORTH AMERICA
SEPTEMBER 7, 2232
A routine morning brought Silas to the Olympus Genetics Facility. He’d woken early to his alarm, replenished his body at cleaning, and swallowed his nerves for the two-hour flight to the northwest sector.
Now, there was only the meeting left.
High in the mountains, Olympus was one of the few remaining cities free from the suffocation of the haze. It had elevation and enough wind to keep the orange at bay.
To Silas, the air smelled. Like pine, like smoke, like soil. It was his first taste of non-recycled air in years. He wasn’t sure he liked it.
He tried not to concentrate on the particulates flooding into his lungs as he stepped from the pre-arranged pod. Flat white stone steps ascended before him, so high he was thankful for his stop at cleaning. He never would have made it otherwise.
As it was, the lingering drums sounded in his head, remnants of yet another night lost to brandy.
Up and up he climbed, forty or fifty stone steps in the smelly fresh air until he reached the entrance of the facility. He pressed his hand to the scanner and, rather than receive directions to Masry, the doors opened to reveal a tall, tight-lipped woman.
“Good morning, Dr. Arrenstein. Dr. Masry will be expecting you in six minutes. Right this way, please.” The woman hugged her tablet so tight to her chest, Silas thought she might snap it in half. Her sleek, blonde hair fell across her shoulders in a way she no doubt planned. Her pressed indigo suit was a perfect fit for her perfect body.
God how he hated Scholars.
The robotic woman escorted Silas down the corridor of the facility, passing doors and hallways that branched in every direction. He was reminded of a new recruit at CPI, how intimidating such a space could be if you’d never been there before.
They arrived at single white door that opened into a conference room where Indra Masry and another woman sat talking.
“There’s no precedence for this sort of thing. Colonies rarely go exactly as planned, but an interference of this magnitude has never happened,” the woman said.
“Let’s wait it out and see what happens,” Masry said with a sigh. “We won’t have precedence if we don’t let it play out this time. Keep a close watch, and let me know if there are any notable changes, particularly in the social dynamic. Keep Filmore in the loop as well.”
“Yes, Vicereine.” The woman nodded and stood, slipping past Silas on her way out.
Masry looked up and offered him a strained smile. “Thank you, Cressida,” she said to the tight-lipped woman, her instruction to close the door and let them talk privately.
“Hey Maz.” Silas walked around the table and kissed her cheek.
“Hi Sy,” she replied as always when they were alone.
“If you wanted to see me, you only had to comm. We have a code word for this exact reason.” It was a bad joke, but she smiled nonetheless.
Indra waited for him to sit before she leaned back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other. “What’s going on down there? Pastromas has been sending me alerts for weeks.”
“About what?” Silas wouldn’t dig his own grave. He would only address the charges already brought against him.
“You picked up a recruit based on your personal preference. She doesn’t have a file, she doesn’t have test scores. She’s been in the underground for years and doesn’t work well on a team.”
“It’s under control.”
“Is it?” She made several swiping motions and pulled up an image of Kaufman, his face dark with bruises and heavily swollen. The day he’d returned from the Root with Maggie.
Silas didn’t say anything. He didn’t have anything to say.
“Well?” she prodded.
He sighed and resigned himself to his fate, walking the proverbial plank. “He was offsite escorting his agent. He was attacked, but neither would offer details.”
“How is that under your control?” Her lips were pursed, her fingers interlaced. She was angry.
“I sent them together. If not for him, the attack might have fallen on the agent. Mable Wilkinson is the best we’ve had in a long time.”
“Wilkinson?” Maz didn’t miss the meaning.
Silas nodded. “They left as two recruits that were forced to work together. They came back as a team. They trust each other, and that was worth it. They need to be able to rely on each other, and for these two, that’s what it took. I won’t pretend to be disappointed in their progress.”
“There are other team-building opportunities available. You know this is Theodore Kaufman? That he had four mentors available on his first day at the Academy? Howard is still asking questions about him.”
Silas knew Kaufman was a high-level Scholar, but he hadn’t known he was quite that good. Nick had made a good pick, as much as he hated to admit it.
“I believe it. He’s a good kid. He fits in well.”
Maz nodded, momentarily satisfied.
Silas saw it as a glimmer of hope.
“What about the drinking?”
“What about it? We agreed to disagree on this one.”
“He says it’s getting out of control. You’re drinking with your recruits. I don’t think it’s appropriate to be so casual with your subordinates. Your role is authoritative while Nick’s is—”
“No offense, Maz, but Nick couldn’t be friendly to these kids if his life depended on it. He can’t imagine life on the underground, life on the streets. He doesn’t have anything in common with them, and he doesn’t want to. I told you it would be a problem from the beginning.” Silas smoothed the tops of his pant legs in a failed attempt to quiet his anger.
Maz threw her hands in the air. “That doesn’t mean you should—”
“Yes, it does. It means someone has to watch out for these kids. If Nick isn’t going to do it, then I will. It’s non-negotiable. They have to be able to build meaningful relationships.” It was like talking to a metal wall.
“Relationships like this?” Maz made a single motion on her tablet to produce an image Silas had never seen. He lay on his back on his bed in the near dark, with a small figure curled beside him.
Maggie.
Last night.
“Jesus Christ, Maz!” he shouted, unable to hold it back any longer. “You have no idea what that girl has been through.” He didn’t mention how the idea of th
at picture infuriated him, much less that it had ended up on her tablet within hours.
“So it’s true then.” Her eyes narrowed.
“No, nothing is going on with her. She’s difficult and obstinate and a pain in the ass, frankly. But she gets the job done, so if I have to cater to her emotional roller coaster, then so be it. But don’t you dare imply that I’ve crossed some sort of line. That’s despicable,” he spat.
“You didn’t touch her?” The vicereine’s features were set, her jaw tight.
Silas threw his head back and laughed. “Is that what this is about? That you think I did something with her? That I’m not loyal to you?” Silas let laughter consume him again. “Don’t be ridiculous. She’s nineteen.”
Indra’s features fell further, but she moved to bring up another picture, then another, then another. Silas walking down the CPI corridor with a nearly naked Maggie, still covered in tattoos. Silas standing in the hospital elevator with Maggie’s arms clutched around his neck. Security footage from his office, him handing her a glass of brandy.
He couldn’t escape it. It looked bad.
“Nick sent you these?”
She nodded and reclasped her hands.
“Did he tell you about them? Did he tell you Kaufman abandoned her during an extraction? That I had to collect her from a public hospital in Toronto and personally remove a Slight? Because if you ask me, the girl could use a hug and a goddamn drink!”
Why did he bother? She would never understand. Devoid of any emotional connection in her Youth years or adult career, Masry couldn’t even fathom what it meant to get close to someone.
Except him.
Pacing about the room, Silas worked to calm his breath. He’d lost his temper enough for one day.
When he neared her chair, he bent forward and clutched the back of her head with his hand. Then, he pulled her into a long, fervent kiss that left them both gasping for air.
“Nothing has happened, or will ever happen, between me and that girl. I’m insulted you would think such a thing,” he said in breath at her ear. “I’ll be at a hotel downtown tonight.”
And with that, Silas walked out. He had nothing else to say. Masry would terminate him, or she wouldn’t. She would come see him tonight, or she wouldn’t. It was out of his control now.
AIDA
LRF-PS-101
SEPTEMBER 7, 2232
Calvin found her in her office the next morning, a container of yogurt in his hand.
“Good morning, Dr. Perkins,” he began as always.
“Good morning, Dr. Calvin.” Aida offered him none of the playfulness they had shared before. She made the conscious decision to keep her distance. Now, he was nothing more than her colleague.
“What are we working on today?” he asked as he sat and pulled out his tablet. She could see the worry in his features, the way his brow knit together, the way his jaw grew tight. Yet still, he refused to ask.
Not at work. This wasn’t the place.
“I’ll continue the terrestrial species array. I’d like for you to work with Dr. Niemeyer to put together a report. He’s been working on the internal core structures of 196. It’s been several days since he’s offered any new information. He is in need of your assistance to finish correlating the data.” She stared at her tablet display, ignoring his eyes, those green gems he’d used to win her over again and again. She couldn’t look at him.
“Yes, Dr. Perkins.” Calvin folded his tablet under his arm and strolled out of her office like nothing had happened. In truth, nothing had. They couldn’t be together, and they had a job to do.
But Aida felt each of his steps as stabs in her chest. How could he walk away? She’d meant to send him away, to get some space and time between them, but she hadn’t expected him to go along so easily, as if he never cared at all.
It hurt her worse than it should.
So, she threw herself into her work. On the right of her screen, miniatures of native species hovered, ready for her to scroll through and catalogue. In the central space, a new species awaited her evaluation—some sort of appendaged creature. It possessed a central disk the size of her hand and at least twenty furry, radiating arms as long as eight or ten inches, like some sort of exotic sea star. The deep scarlet color gleamed with the same unusual florescence as all the others.
She added it to the list and continued. Until she received more information from the probe, it would be difficult to assess the roles of each creature in their various terrestrial ecosystems. Predators, prey, omnivores, carnivores. Some would no doubt have alternative roles dependent to the environment on 196, but that would be determined later.
On and on they went. A caterpillar. A worm. An animal that looked like a large, luxurious flower but was somehow predatory. One had a kite-shaped body with a pointed head, eight arthropod-like legs, and two long antennas. She catalogued it with the other insect-types and moved on.
Aida didn’t stop to each lunch. Calvin never arrived with food, and she wasn’t about to eat the provisions again. She wasn’t that hungry yet.
The familiar beep of an incoming ecomm sounded, though in the silence of her office, it almost startled her.
PERKINS-196 REPORT: INTERNAL STRUCTURE AND STABILITY
In a day, Calvin had accomplished more than Dr. Niemeyer had all week, though it was hard to know how close he’d been to finishing when she’d assigned Calvin to the job.
Aida didn’t want to think about him. She didn’t want a reminder that he existed, that he was only a room away, hard at work merely because she’d asked him to do it. She didn’t want to remember Sal’s application for a Child Permit, or the fact that somewhere on Earth, a geneticist was combing through their genes to select the ideal traits in an offspring.
She didn’t want to think about a piece of Sal inside her, even a single cell.
The thought made her want to wretch up her uneaten lunch.
By the time Calvin returned to her office, her stomach growled, though she did her best to ignore it. She’d processed over 280 species in a single day, but she wasn’t ready to leave.
This was her only safe place now.
“Dr. Niemeyer submitted his report and headed home for the evening. There were some interesting anomalies,” he added.
Aida’s pulse raced at the sound of his voice, at his presence in her office. He was the only one with the power to break her. “Thank you for your assistance.” She didn’t know what else to say.
“If you’d like some help here, I’d be happy to stay.”
“Thank you but I’ll be fine,” she lied.
Calvin set a container on her desk, filled with what looked like salad green. She hadn’t even noticed he held it until he set it in front of her.
“I’m sorry I didn’t bring it earlier. I couldn’t find a moment to get away without rousing suspicion. If you’d like, I could leave them in your office in the mornings.”
“That’s very kind, but I don’t think that’s wise. You don’t need to bring me anything.” She would have to go back to eating provisions sooner or later. Calvin couldn’t supply her with food for the rest of her life. She didn’t like the thought of it, but that part of her life had to go along with the rest of it. She couldn’t have one without the other.
Calvin’s lips twisted into a pained smile. “Come on, you’ve got to be starving. You haven’t left this office since this morning. I know that yogurt didn’t hold you over all day.” He leaned forward and nudged the salad closer to her.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” he added quietly.
Aida shook her head.
“Did something happen between you and Sal?”
“That’s none of your business,” she said, angry that he could still make her heart beat so fast.
Calvin shook his head. “No, it’s not. But he’s clearly done something to upset you. I’m not trying to pry, I just want to know you’re all right.”
Aida rubbed her eyes and tried to think of someth
ing to say. She wasn’t all right. She wasn’t going to recover from this. She felt at the edge of an abyss, one step from falling in.
Calvin sat in the opposing chair and pulled her hand between both of his. “What happened?” His green eyes were as dull as she’d ever seen them.
Aida pulled her hand from his and set it back in her lap. “He got a promotion.”
“What else?” he asked.
“He applied for a Child Permit.”
Calvin smiled wide. “That’s great. Congratulations.” He seemed genuine enough, but Aida couldn’t understand why. How could he say that?
Then he realized she didn’t smile back. “You’re not happy? I thought you wanted children.”
“I did,” she admitted.
“Come here,” he said as he stood, his hand outstretched and waiting for hers. When she pushed out of her chair, he pulled her against his chest where they remained for a good long while. “This is what you’ve been waiting for. You can’t give that up because of me. I won’t let you.”
SILAS
ZUES’S PALACE, OLYMPUS, NORTH AMERICA
SEPTEMBER 7, 2232
The hours ticked away as Silas tried to make himself pretend that she would come, that she couldn’t resist the opportunity of him.
But afternoon faded into evening and then night, and he remained alone.
The hotel room was nice enough, considering it would be the last place he would see before he was transported to a prison nation. Which would be nicer this time of year? Madagascar? Sri Lanka? Cuba could be pleasant enough, if it weren’t for the disease-infested criminals. No matter where he went, the rest of his life would be short. Competing for food and water, rival gangs, fallout and contamination.
His hotel room was one last luxury before they stripped him of everything he had.
A pale faux-wood nightstand and matching desk. Portraits of flowers that no longer existed. A stiff mattress with solid blue bedding, no doubt given to him because of his status. Anyone with clearance such as his surely must be a Scholar…