Dominant Species Volume Two -- Edge Effects (Dominant Species Series)

by Coy, David

  “I can remember what it was like to be in your shoes.”

  “Can you?”

  “Yes.”

  “We get screwed at every turn.”

  “Sometimes it’s true.”

  “No breaks. Hard work. Long hours. Little pay. We start work as children and never stop until we die.”

  Smith pursed his lips sympathetically.

  He just won’t stop.

  “We indentured contractors have to do what we can to survive,” she said. “Most of us won’t make it to retirement. I’m sure you remember that fact as well.”

  Smith opened his mouth with a slight smack sound and postured to rise up out of his chair—and to end the interview.

  “So,” she continued. “I’m sure you’ll understand that I have to do what I can to ensure the safety of my co-workers. That is my job, and I take great pride in it.”

  “As we all do.”

  “I’m very sorry I have to do this.”

  Smith turned to stone. “What do you mean?”

  She turned every bit as hard as Smith. “Because the clinic has no biological inventories to provide a cautionary framework for the safety of the workers on Verde’s Revenge, I’m forced to file a stop order with Health and Safety, asking that all ground activity be suspended until the survey is complete. I can do this under EHCS 2344, sub-paragraph 29a. I don’t have a choice in the matter.”

  There. She’d done what she had to do. It was the only way a lying bastard like Smith could be forced to do the right thing. He was a money pinching, corner-cutting scoff-law, she was sure of it. Such men had put her in this spot to begin with. God, it felt good to say what she had said.

  “Well . . .” he said.

  “I’m sorry,” she said evenly. “I’m sure you understand.”

  “I see.”

  “It’s the only way we can ensure the lives of the contractors on the planet’s surface,” she added for emphasis.

  “Of course.”

  “It’s better for all concerned. As you said, the laws ensuring contractor safety are the best on the books.”

  Right up your ass, she thought.

  “Well, you have the right, as the representative of Health and Safety to close the project down—by law.”

  “I wouldn’t put it like that, but heaven forbid the survey determines that the planet contains even one Class A biological hazard.”

  “Yes,” he agreed solemnly.

  “You and I would be responsible.”

  “Of course.”

  “And we don’t know that the hazards don’t exist at this point,” she said as if paraphrasing the protocol could drive the nails in further.

  “Well, we’ll have to find out,” he said with a scowl.

  He walked around the desk and leaned against it, arms crossed, the very picture of executive contemplation. “You’re talking about a shutdown of at least one hundred and twenty days,” he said. “That gets very expensive.”

  Oh, I am so, so, sorry.

  “You’ve taken me by surprise. But you’re right, of course. The inventories have to be done. When do you plan to make your report?”

  “As soon as I get back to the clinic. I would expect the order to shut down to go into effect within the week.”

  “What can I do to help you?”

  Donna’s hackles rose. He was being too conciliatory.

  “I take it you can house the contractors here on the orbiter until the work is complete?”

  “It’ll be crowded, but we can manage it. I may ask that the next transport remained docked for the duration that should give us some more room.”

  “I’ll have to re-open the infirmary, but that shouldn’t take too much effort,” she added.

  Smith extended his hand. Donna took it.

  “You know, Donna, I could make it worth your while to delay that request.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, knowing the answer already.

  “Take care of certain problems you have, for instance. Certain money or contract issues that you find objectionable, say.” Donna had never been offered a bribe before, and she suddenly wondered why. She had been in the right positions her entire professional life—positions that could have supported bribery as naturally as bacteria supported infections. Yet, this was the first time. Was it her attitude? Was it her professional demeanor or something deeper? Did she give off special vibrations that originated from the honest, principled end of the moral spectrum?

  The pieces began to fit. As the General Contractor and holder of the Richthaus-Alvarez franchise for Project Development, Ed Smith could specify contractors that met any set of pre-conditions he wished. In this case, he’d ordered a Grade V Nurse/Administrator who was already under extreme financial pressure to run the clinic. Smith wanted people he could control associated with the project’s compliance issues.

  He obviously hadn’t seen the color of the light that radiated from her particular moral light source. He’d gotten an Administrator in financial distress all right, but one with a set of ethics he hadn’t counted on.

  Big mistake.

  “I have no problems I can’t resolve quite comfortably in time,” she said coolly.

  Smith finally saw the light and scowled.

  “I wish this meeting had taken place under happier circumstances,” he said. “Would you stay for lunch? My chef is very good.”

  “I really have to get back. I have patients waiting.”

  “I understand.”

  They stood there for an uncomfortable beat.

  “Well, this is a surprise,” he said.

  “I’m sorry. But it’s the right thing to do.”

  “Of course. It’s just that I don’t like surprises.”

  “James?” he said at the intercom.

  “Sir?”

  “Can you escort Donna back to the shuttle, please.”

  “Right away.”

  Mr. Too-clean was there before she could turn around, his pleasant face beaming.

  He led her out of Smith’s office, but Smith called him back inside, leaving her to bask in the insipid expression on Afshin’s face.

  “I hope your meeting went well,” he said.

  “Yes. Very well. Thank you,” she smiled back. “And thank you for getting me the audience so quickly.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he said stiffly.

  James reappeared looking even more pleasant than he had earlier. He touched her arm gently and led her out.

  It was the touch that did it. The hair on her neck grew springs.

  They walked through the orbiter without speaking. James glanced over his shoulder a few times to make sure she was keeping up, his pleasant expression holding onto his face like a mask. She was relieved to get to the shuttle.

  “Here we are,” he said and stepped aside to let her enter.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said and stepped on board behind her.

  “Oh . . .” she said. “You’re coming with us?”

  “Yes. I have an errand for Mr. Smith. No rest for the wicked.”

  “Ah . . .”

  She took her seat and strapped herself in. When James sat down behind her silently, she had the impulse to move to another seat. The close proximity made her skin crawl.

  She replayed the entire conversation she’d had with Smith. He was a louse. As she mulled it over, more pieces began to drift into place; but no clear picture took form. Something was wrong with the project. It was snake-bitten. Something was very, very out of whack; that much she knew for sure. She contemplated breaking her contract and going back home, perhaps mentioning the bribe to someone in Health under separate cover or in her report itself. If she broke her contract, they’d put her in jail. If she continued on with Smith at the helm, she might end up in jail anyway.

  There was a brief period of weightlessness as the shuttle fell toward the planet. Donna’s purse drifted up off the seat next to her only to be snagged by James and offered back t
o her.

  “Oh, thanks,” she said.

  “Is that real leather?” he asked.

  “Yes. One of the few. A gift from some years ago.”

  “Very nice.”

  “Thank you.”

  The sudden pull of gravity as the shuttle fell through the upper atmosphere caused a momentary blanch of nausea as it always did. The exchange with Smith had been tense, and she was feeling a delayed reaction to it. She felt herself gripping the arms of the seat so tightly her knuckles were showing white.

  Settle down!

  She looked out the window and watched as the little cut-out of the installation grew in size. Minutes later, she could make out individual structures along the eastern edge. As they descended even further, she tried to pick out the clinic, but wasn’t sure she could.

  When she realized they had overflown the installation she felt a wrenching in her guts that had nothing to do with gravity.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  James looked out the window and acted confused—too confused. She knew he was screwing with her.

  “My, we’re over the jungle again. What the heck . . .”

  Donna went stiff in her seat and stared straight ahead.

  They wouldn’t dare.

  “We must be taking a short cut . . .” he said.

  She thought she heard a slight chuckle coming from behind her. She swallowed. Her mind raced in no direction at all.

  She ventured a look out the window and had to crane her neck around to see the cleared patch of jungle behind her. When she looked straight down, she could make out the tops of trees drifting past and then the long, straight stripe of a wide swamp.

  She had to get out of her chair. The safety straps felt like an executioner’s restraints. She had them off in a flash and got up, fear tightening her chest.

  “Where are you going?” James asked.

  “To talk to the pilot,” she said almost gasping.

  “He’s busy,” he said with a smirk.

  She had to do something. Anything. She put the strap of her purse over her shoulder and approached the forward door just like any concerned passenger might do who had noticed that the craft was suddenly way off course.

  She knocked.

  When she heard James laugh, the rush of fear almost made her faint.

  No. This isn’t happening.

  She noticed that the shuttle had stopped and now drifted high above the green.

  “What’s going on? Why have we stopped here?”

  She knew the answer. She turned at the sound of the cockpit’s opening door.

  Another Too-Clean had replaced the pilot. Actually, he looked nasty. “Can you fly?” he asked.

  She wanted to faint.

  “No, can-you?” she asked as one word.

  James chuckled.

  “Well, I’d suggest you grow wings really fast.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Cause you’re gonna need 'em, really fast.”

  She heard the shuttle’s exterior door open and looked over. A thick patch of cloud hovered just a few hundred meters from the open door. She could see the green mat of the jungle stretching forever.

  “You’ll never get away with this,” she said with sudden resolve.

  “Yes, we will. You won’t be missed.”

  “You’re wrong. They’ll investigate. They’ll know I’ve been to the orbiter.”

  One of them took hold of her arms. His hands clamping like a vise. She instinctively tried to drop to the floor and started to kick and flail.

  “No! You fuckers! You bastards! No!”

  James grabbed her by her shirt front, and together they wrestled her to within a few feet of the open door. The green below looked soft and cushiony like the cloud.

  “See that?” James said. “That shit goes all around the planet. There are a zillion ways to disappear on this ball. They won’t find so much as a single little toe bone. No body, no crime.” Nasty leaned down close to her ear, but his voice was far away.

  “It’ll be fun.”

  She felt his hands cinch a little tighter. Her panic gave way to numbness.

  He shoved her out.

  She felt herself tumble, but she didn’t fall. She spun weightless in the shuttle’s suspensor field with nothing under her but air. She looked down at the soft cushiony treetops and felt her mind drifting, fading from reality.

  “You didn’t push her far enough,” James said. “She’s stuck. I told you this was stupid. We should have just jettisoned her into space.”

  “Oh, yeah?” the other said. “Watch this.”

  Nasty reached up and held onto the railing above the door just as Donna tumbled back toward it. When she was in just the right position, he jumped, swung out and kicked her with both feet. She tumbled across the suspensor field and slid down the far side of it, then out into mid-air.

  She gained speed quickly, and the rushing air tore at her clothes and hair, and its sound filled her ears. Her mind retreated further, she went limp, and let the arms of gravity pull her downward.

  She rotated slowly, feeling the force of the air twist and bend her. Once or twice, she saw the stationary shuttle far above, getting smaller and smaller as she fell.

  The treetops approached slowly at first, then faster and faster, filling her vision with green. She wanted to scream. What came out was a long groan—vanquished by the sound of rushing air.

  She hit the treetop like a bullet and crashed through the upper branches in a mere half second. Spun and twisted violently by the impact, her world was a tumbling flash of green and light and crashing sound. Slowed by the top branches, she shot down through the woolly tree and hit the spongy ground at its base with a thump, square on her back, at a modest speed of ten meters per second.

  She lay still.

  Then her mind crawled up, slowly up, like a wounded animal, into the bright light of a sweet and certain reality.

  * * *

  I’m alive.

  Her lungs nearly devoid of air, she gasped until she could force enough into them to breathe again.

  She took inventory, trying to sense broken bones and burst organs; any injuries illuminated by flames of pain.

  Her feet worked. That was a very good sign. She twisted them around slowly, just to feel them move. She felt a thing crawling on her neck and reached up to pluck it off. Another good sign, but the skin on her arm was red and welted, scratched and bleeding as if feral cats had attacked her. She could hear and see and a sweet scent reached her. She licked her lips and spat something twiggy from the tip of her tongue. Her face began to sting, and she realized her face must have suffered much like her arm had. She took a deep breath and felt some pain in her diaphragm, but nothing that overwhelmed her. She had no idea if she had any internal injuries. Those would show themselves soon enough.

  She’d landed in a thick patch of ferns. When she looked up through the fronds, she could see the sky above as if looking through a ragged tube; her body had cut a trail through the branches on its way through the soft, bushy tree. It was the tallest, woolliest tree she’d ever seen.

  “Thank God for you, tree,” she croaked at it.

  She took another deep breath and, moving in slow motion, rose up. Everything hurt, but she managed to make it up on one knee. She coughed.

  She was amazed when seeing the thing at her feet, recognized it as her purse. The strap was completely missing, probably hanging from a broken branch above.

  Christ.

  Standing stiffly, she looked up through the canopy to the sky above. Looking up made her stagger slightly to catch her balance. As the shock subsided, she began to feel as if she’d been beaten with a big stick.

  “Stupid idea after all, you pricks,” she said weakly. I’m still alive.”

  She looked around at the thick, nearly impenetrable foliage and the thought occurred to her that maybe that was exactly what they’d planned.

  She tried to sit but fell more than sat down on her r
ump, legs akimbo, and the shock of hitting the ground shot through her like a bolt.

  A moment later, her eyes slowly closed and then she fell softly over onto her side.

  A pulsing pain in her arm brought her back to awareness. She could tell by the fog over her brain that she’d slept awhile. She struggled up and got to her feet, each movement sending shock waves through her.

  She sat back down on a moss-covered log and looked around. Nothing moved; not leaf or twig. Something small, a seed or nut, dropped from above and left a brief trail of sound along the leaves and branches as it fell. She lost it completely in the tangle.

  Just like me.

  She had no idea where she was; no idea which way to go.

  Panic reared up like a beast, and she breathed deep to keep it at bay. She looked around, twisting painfully one way and the next, trying to gain some clue, some hint of which way to go.

  If she could get up high enough, maybe she could see the installation.

  She giggled, almost hysterically.

  Which way?

  She looked up. The sun was directly behind the cloud cover that had drifted over her position. She scowled. It wouldn’t help her even if she could see it. She had no idea where the sun rose or set relative to the installation. That hadn’t been on her list of things to check in the first two days on the project.

  The purse was a problem. She wouldn’t be carrying it without a strap. She opened it and scratched through the contents, taking inventory. She put the compact with the mirror in her shirt pocket then added the penknife and a half package of chewing gum. The little flashlight was a sure bet, and in it went. She’d carried the little sewing kit for years, its package worn dull by the numerous pockets it had ridden in. She put it in her pocket. She took her ID card. There were two foil-wrapped doses of aspirin in the bottom. She tore a pack open and munched, then swallowed the tablets and put the other pack in the pocket. She scratched through the remaining stuff to make sure there was nothing else worth keeping.

  Satisfied, she tossed the purse away with a sigh. She’d been very fond of it.

  Which way?

  After thinking about it, she decided on what to do and tore another straight twig off the tree. She cleaned it off as best she could, decided which end would be the arrow-end.