“Whose orders, Brenda?”
“I don’t know exactly, but it’s been like this since before the ration program was ever started. The coastals were built for the sole purpose of guarding the algae―”
“Yes, I know about that,” Smith interrupted impatiently. “Everyone knows, it was because we thought the algae wasn’t a sustainable food source. We would deplete our last natural resource, threaten the planet’s oxygen―the restriction wasn’t supposed to be permanent, though, it was based on the idea that the algae supply wasn’t large enough. The report from six months ago proves that it would work to replace the ration program.”
Brenda rolled her eyes.
“The report doesn’t matter, nothing does. The coastal people live and breathe for one purpose: enforce the order that protects the algae at all costs. The reemergence of plant and animal life in the dryland region is the only exception written in the order―”
“It can’t be the only exception, we already get algae delivered from them all the time―”
“Just shut up and listen, Jeremy!” she huffed. “That’s what I’m trying to explain!”
He clenched his teeth, his eyes flashing with annoyance as he stiffly motioned for her to continue.
“Like I said, that’s the only exception written in the order,” Brenda repeated, stressing her words as she glared at him. “Our current trade deal with Coastal One falls outside of official policy.”
Smith opened his mouth as if preparing to comment, but the look she gave him seemed to make him reconsider. She cleared her throat.
“The ration program had a rough start for the first few years,” she continued. “Synthetic vitamins were engineered into ration meat to deliver necessary nutrients to the general population, but that wasn’t enough for the breeders we used to develop the rations in the first place. The breeders were only lasting an average of three months before dying of nutritional deficiencies, the hormone program somehow interfered with their ability to digest the synthetic compounds in ration meat. We tried adding an oral dose, but it didn’t help—we needed to supplement the synthetics with a natural source of vitamins. Luckily for us, Base One’s presiding scientist at the time was related somehow to the scientist in charge of Coastal One—the relationship was exploited to circumvent the order and gain us very limited access to the algae.”
She paused to take a breath.
“We entered into a trade agreement with Coastal One as a result—we give them meat and they give us just enough algae to help us make supplements for the ration breeders. It’s not to be relied on as an actual food source, but only to compensate for the vitamin compounds that the breeders need to survive long enough to be of use to the program. The agreement also required us to guarantee that we would never seek full access to the algae—if we ever do, Coastal One will completely cut us off. Without the algae, the breeders will start dying off faster than we can use them, and we won’t be able to create enough rations to feed the population.”
“Then we cut Coastal One off from ration meat,” Smith said. “Two can play that game―”
“They don’t actually need the meat to survive, Jeremy. They can live without it, it’s just better for them to have it. We have nothing to negotiate with—Coastal One has been honoring that old agreement for a century in a good-faith effort to maintain peace, and if we challenge it, we will all die.”
“We could take over Coastal One.”
“What part of defense system do you not understand?” Brenda demanded, rolling her eyes. “Let me reiterate—the coastals were designed to protect the algae, and they are equipped to kill anyone who tries to come after it!”
“They can’t possibly hold all of us off―”
“Do you hear yourself?” she scoffed sarcastically. “What weapons do we have? You just expect to knock and have them open their doors?”
“We have the red flu, we can bring that―”
“Are you really this stupid? Jeremy, listen to me carefully—THEY HAVE A DEFENSE SYSTEM!”
Her voice shook the windows as she lunged forward to scream in his face; he flinched, his eyes widening with rage, but he didn’t say a word. She muttered under her breath in frustration, stepping away from him as she resumed pacing.
“We wouldn’t get close enough to the facility to use the red flu, Executive Smith,” she told him in a calm tone. “The original scientists considered trying to take over a coastal settlement before ultimately coming up with the ration program—the idea was dismissed because any attempt on a coastal was a guaranteed death sentence. I’ve read their accounts, they describe the threat posed by the coastals in great detail.”
Smith heaved himself to his feet and shuffled his heavy frame over to the window, gazing out at the dry landscape below.
“Why are you telling me all of this?” he asked after a long moment. He turned to look at her. “What’s your point?”
Brenda sighed and joined him at the window, folding her hands behind her back as she stared at the clouds of dust that billowed across the ground outside.
“The existence of Andreas’ test subject is going to destroy the ration program,” she said quietly. “As long as that creature is alive, I will be powerless to stop the chain reaction that will be set into motion when the others learn of it. The researchers will halt all of their current work to explore this insane theory―no rations will be produced in the meantime, and once we fall below our production quota, we’ll be faced with mass eradications that will destroy our workforce in the settlements. No workforce means no deliveries of the materials we need to produce food and supplies for our own residents, which will ultimately lead to a demand for the algae harvest. Like you, the administration will suggest that we attempt to force Coastal One to grant us access.”
“You’ll have to tell them what you just told me,” Smith said. His voice sounded weak, almost as if he was having trouble grasping everything she had explained. “The presiding scientists at the other facilities know everything that you do, don’t they?”
“But how will we convince the researchers to agree?” Brenda countered. “The researchers in just one facility outnumber all of the board members combined, and if they find out that a ration can speak and think the way this one does, no force on this planet would be able to stop them from pursuing something like this.”
She hesitated for a moment, eyeing him.
“Right now, no one outside of this facility knows about the ration,” she said. “But if this spreads to the other facilities, it will become unstoppable. I promise you, we will all die as a result.”
“Then what can we do?” Smith asked, shaking his head dejectedly. “I already tried ordering Andreas to resolve the damn thing, and your attempt obviously didn’t work. You said you can’t go outside the rules that govern the board without risking your own neck, so what can we possibly do?”
Brenda smiled to herself. She had been waiting for him to ask this question, and she had her answer prepared.
“The ration explained how to locate the defect, so I can send messages to the presiding scientists at the other facilities to make sure they know. I still believe that this is an isolated occurrence, but if not, we’ll either phase out the affected strains or go back to using physical lobotomy to keep the rations under control until harvest. As long as Trent can succeed in his half-term rations, lobotomy should work.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that the other facilities will eventually find out about Andreas’ ration,” Smith pointed out. “Once that happens, they’re going to be pounding down our doors to study it. We’ll be right back to square one.”
“That’s where you come in,” Brenda told him. “You can fix this for us, you have an option that I don’t have—an executive order. You can order the ration destroyed.”
He scoffed.
“I can’t use one of those unless I have proof of a serious threat!”
“What’s more serious than this?”
“I need proof,” he repeated. “What you’ve told me isn’t proof.”
“You can base an executive order off of a statement from a reliable source.”
“And what am I going to say?” Smith snapped incredulously. “Dr. Hanson told me that a talking ration is going to destroy the program unless we resolve it?”
“No, you can’t include my name at all, and you certainly can’t mention on the record that the ration can talk.”
“Then I don’t know how the hell you think this could work!” he huffed, throwing his hands up in frustration as he marched back to his desk. He collapsed into his chair and glared at her. “Executive orders are serious things, the administration at Base One almost always sees them as rogue attempts to circumvent policy—only three executives have gotten away with using one in the last fourteen years!”
Brenda cocked her head, giving him a meaningful look as she moved to sit across from him.
“But Andreas is a sympathizer, remember?” she said, her voice lilting dramatically. “She and David conspired together to create a ration that will force the end of the program, she’s convinced that the program is immoral and has vowed to destroy it.”
Smith rolled his eyes.
“Right, but according to whom?”
“According to her lab assistant—a reliable source. If they question your reasons for issuing the executive order and find them lacking, you can just blame him for giving you incorrect information. It won’t be your fault, and they can’t hold you accountable.”
“And when they question this lab assistant about it? Is he going to keep his mouth shut?”
“Let’s just say that Mr. Meyers is extremely motivated to do what he’s told,” Brenda smiled. “He will do whatever it takes to get a chance to become a researcher—he’s the one who handed me David in the first place, in exchange for a second chance to take his qualifying exams. He failed again and has been begging for a third opportunity ever since. He’ll do anything I ask, and with the ration dead, everything that was witnessed at the conference today will become nothing but a rumor outside these walls. I’ll handle the rest with the presiding scientists at the other facilities.”
“Is this because of some personal vendetta against Andreas?” Smith asked bluntly. “Are you trying to convince me to do this out of spite for her?”
Brenda made a face.
“I would love to see Andreas removed, but no, this isn’t about that. Otherwise, I would just offer you a deal to admit that she’s been providing you with privileged information about our research projects. That would have worked before her little stunt this morning, but now, it would only result in her removal—it wouldn’t eliminate the ration.”
“You should have just gone with that instead of trying to enforce the standing resolution order,” Smith scoffed. “The ration would have been euthanized once she was removed.”
“Hindsight, Jeremy, I know,” Brenda sighed regretfully. “Unfortunately, I was unaware that the ration could talk until this morning, Andreas withheld that detail at her hearing yesterday. I still need to secure her removal as well, which means I’ll definitely be offering you that deal, but resolving the ration is our primary concern.”
She paused, leaning forward as she gave him a grave look.
“You’re the only one who can save the ration program, Executive Smith, you’re the only one who can save humanity. Will you do this for us?”
“I…I don’t know,” Smith muttered. “What you’re suggesting could be considered administrative interference with the board’s authority, I could face charges―”
“The worst that could happen is a standard investigation by the board, Jeremy. I’m the board, I’ll make sure they find in your favor.”
Smith frowned, staring down at his hands; Brenda could see him considering it, and when he glanced up, she knew she had him.
He cleared his throat.
“Where’s this lab assistant?”
†‡†
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Ayn stayed close to Andreas as he followed her back to the lab, glancing over his shoulder at the horde of researchers that trampled up the stairs behind him. They were already trying to convince her to let them start cutting into him, and he breathed a sigh of relief as she ushered him into the lab and closed the door, quickly shutting them all outside.
“Well, that was fun,” he announced sarcastically, sinking down onto a chair. “I can’t imagine what’s going to happen next.”
He crossed his arms, watching as Andreas marched over to the medication cabinet. She was holding a box of vials she had picked up on the way back to the lab, and the glass bottles clinked together as she began placing them on the shelves. She seemed tense, and Ayn raised a brow when she finally turned to face him. He had expected her to be excited, but instead, she was glaring at him.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, studying her angry expression. “Your access codes were restored and the resolution order is gone. You got what you wanted―”
“Why didn’t you tell me about David’s other theories?” Andreas demanded. “You didn’t say anything about him suspecting a lack of receptors in your brain!”
Ayn shrugged.
“It didn’t matter at the time.”
“Of course it mattered!” she howled. “It all matters, I need to know everything!”
He chuckled under his breath.
“Well, since the information inside my head is the only thing I have to negotiate with, you’ll understand why I’m a little hesitant to reveal all of it.”
“This isn’t a negotiation!” Andreas snapped. “You are a ration―”
“Yes, I know, I’m nothing,” Ayn hissed, his countenance instantly darkening. “Just don’t forget that this nothing is the only reason you’re still alive right now.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“And I’m the only reason you weren’t euthanized the moment you arrived back here from settlement 109!”
“Which isn’t going to matter if I have to spend the rest of my life being cut apart in a lab!” he shouted, leaping to his feet. She shrank back in fear, but he ignored her, slowly stepping closer. “I want to go after Amber, Andreas! I love her, I need to be with her!”
“That can’t happen,” Andreas stammered, nervously backing away towards her desk. “You know it can’t.”
“I’ll trade you, Andreas! I’ll tell you everything if you just let me go!”
Her hand flashed out; she had grabbed a prod from underneath a stack of files on her desk, and Ayn felt his body seize as she jabbed him in the chest. He let out a roar of pain as he forced his muscles to move, snatching hold of the prod and throwing it across the room.
“You’re not going to do that again!” he bellowed, his shoulders heaving with rage. Andreas darted away from him, whimpering in terror, and he scoffed as he sat back down. “I already said I wouldn’t hurt you, dammit!”
“And I’m just supposed to believe you?” Andreas shot back. “You swore that you would kill me―”
“I said I would kill you if you hurt Amber!” Ayn snarled, wincing as he rubbed his chest. “She’s gone, so obviously that’s not an issue anymore! It’s been almost two days, Andreas, she’s alone―”
“I’m not letting you go, ration. I can’t.”
He hung his head and buried his face in his hands, his anger instantly evaporating into sorrow.
“You mean you won’t.”
“You’re too valuable,” she told him, cautiously scooting a chair back to a safe distance and sitting down. “I need the information you have, but I’ll make you a deal. If you tell me what I want to know, I’ll delay the tests the other researchers want to do until we can find a pain medication that will work on you.”
“And if you never do?”
Andreas frowned.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” she said. “It’s either that, or Dr. Tr
ent will be here in an hour for a bone marrow sample.”
Ayn cringed. It was barely three in the afternoon, and he needed to avoid any procedure that might interfere with his ability to run. He would be ready to leave by midnight as long as nothing else delayed him.
He lifted his gaze, his eyes boring holes into hers.
“What do you want to know?”
Andreas eyed the ration’s seething glare. It was upset, but as long as she got what she wanted, nothing else mattered.
“Why you?” she asked. The ration raised a brow.
“What do you mean?”
“The ration program has been going for a century, and we’ve never encountered anything like this until now. What makes you different? Did David ever find out?”
The ration sighed.
“David believed that the defect had to do with the original donor material, remember?”
Andreas nodded.
“He said he thought something had occurred to cause a widespread mutation,” she answered.
“That something happened three years ago,” the ration continued. “David discussed it quite a bit in his dictations, he described the event as the moment the ration program died even though no one knew it yet. It involved the HeLa cells used to develop the program—immortal cells.”
Andreas pursed her lips. She knew exactly what event the ration was talking about—the cells in question had been used in scientific research since the twentieth century, and they formed the entire foundation of the ration program. The basic genetic characteristics required to grow rations had been implanted into a purified sample of those cells, which then multiplied to make endless copies. Every single ration, past and present, was created from this original donor material.
Three years ago, the cells had suddenly stopped multiplying. The scientific community had panicked, but it hadn’t taken them long to discover the cause: a type of mold had infected the unit in which the cells were stored, and the toxin it produced had nearly killed them. A regeneration treatment was developed that made the cells resistant to the fungus, and it was applied across every facility in the country. Cell growth restarted almost immediately.
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