BENEATH - A Novel

by Jeremy Robinson

  Peterson felt sure Connelly would be thankful to be taken away from whatever nightmare was plaguing her slumber. He moved slowly forward, keeping the glass cylinder he'd picked up at the lab, hidden behind his back. "Kathy?"

  He stepped closer as Connelly's tension rose. Her movements became more jerky and her face turned sour. "Connelly, wake up."

  On the last word of Peterson's sentence, Connelly burst awake with a flail of hands and feet. She was gasping for air and began feeling her body, apparently inspecting it for injuries.

  "Whoa, whoa," Peterson said, "It's just me, Connelly. It's just me."

  Connelly looked straight into Peterson's eyes and he saw that hers were full of fear. "It was just a dream," he said. "A nightmare."

  As her breath began to normalize and her muscles grew less rigid, she said, "Michael…what are you doing here?"

  "I brought you a present," he said.

  Connelly rubbed her forehead with her palms. "W—What?"

  Hoping the sight of their new discovery would wipe the cobwebs from her mind, he brought the glass cylinder out from behind his back and turned on the lights. At first, Connelly shielded her eyes from the bright light, holding her hands in front of her squinting eyes. Peterson moved closer, so she could have a better view.

  Connelly lowered her hands and came face to face with the largest of the Europhid samples. It was still in its glass container and still standing tall, like a proud obelisk. It was only a foot tall, but seemed gigantic compared to the others. Connelly's reaction wasn't exactly what Peterson expected.

  She leaned away in fear, but quickly became embarrassed. "Sorry," she said.

  "That nightmare have something to do with the Europhids?"

  Connelly shook her head, no.

  "Because they are quite frightening." Peterson held the Europhid sample out and warbled it back and forth. "I'm coming to get you, Kathy! I'm a scary red cucumber from hell and I'm here to steal your soul!"

  Connelly smiled. "Enough," she said. "What are you doing with that anyway?" Connelly checked her watch. "We still have an hour before launch prep."

  Peterson smiled. "Exactly. I think a two hour nap is sufficient, don't you? There are much more interesting ways to kill time."

  Connelly raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  "With the Europhids, Connelly." Peterson smiled and shook his head. "I'm heading out. You'll have about thirty seconds before I get lost in this maze without you. If you want in, better make it quick." With that, Peterson headed out the door.

  Walking slowly, Peterson did his best to hear what was happening inside Connelly's room. He heard what sounded like rushing feet. Then the door opened and he could hear Connelly quickly approaching from behind. "Where are you going? The research lab is the other way."

  "We're not going to the research lab," Peterson said, savoring the moment.

  "Where then?"

  "The bio-lab."

  CHAPTER 13 -- INFECTION

  Connelly's awe returned as she stepped into the bio-lab. Its massive size and grand gardens of flowers, vegetables and full sized trees almost made her forget she was floating in orbit around an alien world inhabited by the most unlikely of life forms. The tangy scent of the flowers filled her nose. She took in a deep breath, wondering if this is what the Garden of Eden must have been like…sans the plant incubators.

  But her awestruck wonder was suddenly replaced by a sense doom. She squeezed her hands into tight fists when a shooting pain rocketed up her forearm. A tightening knot of tension began to form in Connelly's right shoulder blade, pulsing with pain. Was this anxiety? Had her old enemy returned?

  No, this is something more, she thought. I beat the anxiety years ago.

  She relaxed her grip and made a concerted effort to loosen the rest of her muscles, but it was like trying to soften a stone. Her thoughts returned to the strange dream. The images were still clear; the swirling red colors, the anger, and the message.

  Go home, Kathy. You shouldn't be here!

  "You OK?" Peterson asked.

  "Yeah, sure…I'm fine." Connelly rubbed the back of her neck. "Just get overwhelmed every time I come here." Returning her gaze to the bio-lab greenery, a small sense of peace began to return, but not fully. She remembered her childhood dog, a golden retriever named Sarah, and suddenly wished that the GEC had sent more than flowers to comfort them. Sarah would have been perfect.

  A loud clunk and the hiss of a sealing container pulled Connelly's attention to what Peterson was doing. After a moment of confusion, she realized what she was seeing. Peterson had removed a tomato plant from one of the larger plant incubators and had transplanted the Europhid sample.

  In an instant, she knew what he was planning to do, and couldn't begin to imagine what the effects might be.

  "I don't think that's a good idea," Connelly said. "We don't even really know if that's technically a plant yet. Not to mention how many safety protocols you're breaking."

  Peterson smiled. "We're breaking."

  Connelly crossed her arms and gave Peterson a sour look.

  "Fine," he said. "I'm breaking. Your objection is dully noted, blah, blah, blah. We have more samples and Europa is covered in them."

  Connelly continued her silent protest.

  "Anything that happens, transformations, reactions, augmentations, whatever, will be contained inside the incubator. We're safe."

  Connelly didn't budge. She couldn't shake the feeling that this was dangerous.

  After taking a deep breath, Peterson stood back and slowly let the air out of his lungs. "Look, if this is a plant, it should have some kind of reaction to the incubator. Why spend hours examining it under a microscope when we can find out in a few seconds by flipping this switch."

  Connelly scratched the back of her head and crossed her arms again. "Sorry, you're on your own." She turned toward the door and started walking, though admittedly, not as quickly as she could have. She recognized the sound of the incubator being activated. But her determination remained solid. Her feet carried her toward the door.

  Peterson spoke as the automatic doors slid open to allow Connelly exit. "Holy shit, it's working."

  Connelly's mind suddenly began a hyper-speed ping pong match over staying or leaving. The match lasted a half second. She spun around and saw Peterson hunched over the incubator. He was looking at the Europhid, which was moving back and forth, swaying as though in the wind—and growing.

  Connelly crouched next to Peterson. She watched in amazement as the Europhid not only continued to grow, but spread out new shoots, which became their own, new gelatinous bodies. Within thirty seconds the single organism had grown five new specimens, each now nearing three inches tall. Thin tendrils began squirming out, burrowing down into the ruddy, Europian soil, that Peterson had transplanted along with the Europhid.

  "Self replication," Connelly said. "They're asexual."

  They watched for another ten seconds as the five Europhids continued to expand. As the flesh of one of the Europhid pushed against the glass, Connelly became nervous. What if the glass broke? "Shut it off," she said.

  Peterson snapped back to the here and now and switched off the machine. The light hum of the incubator ceased and the Europhid stopped moving. But something new moved beneath the surface.

  Connelly focused on the motion. It looked like a snake slithering beneath the sand of a desert. She gasped as a thin red tendril, like a thick worm, emerged from the soil. It slowly explored the inside of the incubator, feeling the glass shell carefully.

  With a confused mix of aversion and awe, Connelly watched in silence.

  It's moving!

  The Europhids can move!

  Or could they? Perhaps they had mutated the Europhid by activating the plant incubator? Connelly shuddered at the thought that the human race was new to this world and had already genetically altered one of the native species, the first alien life ever encountered. She now realized that she should have stopped Peterson before he could acti
vate the incubator. It was a foolish thing to do.

  Peterson placed his hand against the glass and the tendril moved toward it. It stopped in front of his hand, hovering like an angry serpent. Peterson moved his hand to the right. It followed. To the left. It followed again.

  "Huh." Peterson chuckled. "It seems intelligent…at least enough for motion tracking. Maybe it's an automatic reflex? Like Venus Flytraps?"

  "Venus fly traps react to touch."

  "So?"

  "If the Europhid is tracking your movements…it can see you."

  Peterson's eyes went wide and he looked to Connelly, meeting her gaze. "See me?"

  "Or at least sense your movement. Sensing light and dark…smell, sound, or something entirely new. My point is that it knows you're there."

  In a gentle gesture, Peterson reached out and took Connelly's hand. He squeezed tighter as their eyes locked. "Amazing, isn't it?" Connelly felt herself moving closer to Peterson and a wave of nervous energy swept from her toes to the hair follicles on the top of her head. Her eyes began to close as she prepared for—

  Crash! A spray of glass exploded onto Connelly and Peterson. In an automatic reaction, both flung themselves away from the plant incubator, sprawling onto the floor. Connelly pulled herself away and scrambled to her feet, shaking the glass from her jumpsuit.

  Peterson was still on the floor, holding his right hand in his left, cringing in pain. Connelly moved to him. "Are you all right?"

  "Piece of glass got me," he said. "I'll be okay."

  Connelly looked toward the plant incubator. Half of the glass tube had been shattered. The single red tendril slowly pulled its way back inside and buried itself in the red soil.

  "Oh God…" Peterson's voice was shaky, almost unrecognizable.

  Connelly immediately saw that Peterson was terrified. He stared at his hand, which had a red welt, surrounded by a large, white swollen area. At the center was a small puncture wound, the size of a dime.

  "It stung me," he said. "I think it stung me. There's a containment lever in the backside of the incubator. Switch it, quick."

  Keeping her eye on the Europhid, Kathy rounded the incubator, found the lever and pulled it. A metal casing rose up and around the broken glass. It wriggled violently as the steel sheath rose. Then it was out of sight, sealed inside.

  Connelly couldn't believe what she had seen. The Europhid was not only asexual, partly mobile and had motion tracking abilities, but it could also strike out. This seemingly innocent organism had attacked Peterson and whatever foreign elements it contained were now causing Peterson's body to react.

  "You'll be okay," Connelly insisted. "We need to get to the infirmary and contact Choi." But Peterson didn't move. He just sat there, staring at his wounded hand, which was swelling larger by the second.

  "Michael, you need to get up. If we don't get you to the infirmary, the swelling could get worse, maybe reach your heart…. Are you listening to me?" Connelly was shouting, but Peterson remained frozen.

  He looked up suddenly, his eyes full of fear. "Kathy, I don't want to end up like Benson."

  Connelly caught her breath. "Who's Benson?"

  * * * * *

  The hard, metallic floor of the Med-Lab clunked beneath Connelly's feet as she paced, occasionally glancing at Peterson. The man she had come to know as a confident, strong willed and sometimes macho personality now had his forearm strapped to a short operating table, and he was whimpering like a school boy with a skinned knee.

  "Ahh! Hurts like hell," Peterson complained, as Choi pinched the festering puncture wound on the back of his hand. A red tinged foam oozed from the gash. Choi added pressure and Peterson began sucking air in between his clenched teeth. Connelly felt sure he would soon let out a scream. But Choi eased up as soon as the liquid draining from his hand began running clear.

  Connelly noticed that Choi had all but ignored Peterson's complaint of pain. She also noticed how Harris, who stood behind Choi, his arms crossed tight across his chest, had remained expressionless throughout the ordeal. He was impossible to read, but one thing was for sure, his normally friendly demeanor was gone. Connelly was sure the captain's confidence in her was shattered; that she and Peterson might very well be excluded from the remainder of the mission and banned from the Europhid samples. If she were in change, that's the decision she would make.

  Why did I listen to him? she thought.

  A typhoon of rage swirled though Connelly's mind. All affection for Peterson dissipated, replaced by anger. But not just at Peterson, at herself as well. While he had smuggled the Europhid from the lab, she had followed him. He had activated the plant incubator, but she had watched—seduced by curiosity. And now she might lose her position and life's work. All her dreams, all her passion, might have been destroyed by the stupidity of one attractive man and her own foolishness.

  "Watch it!" Peterson said in a loud voice that bordered on yelling.

  Choi stood above Peterson's hand, clasping a sharp pair of tweezers between her gloved fingers. "Keep your hand still, Dr. Peterson. I wouldn't want to make the wound worse." Choi's voice was controlled and even, but there was no doubting that she would follow up on her veiled threat. Peterson bit his lip and made his body rigid, holding as still as possible.

  Peterson's face twisted with pain as Choi slid the needle-tipped tweezers inside his hand. She tried three times, unsuccessfully, to grasp something buried between his metacarpals. Peterson's flesh turned white and his body went slack. On the forth attempt, Choi grasped something with the tweezers and quickly yanked it out.

  Reacting to the immense pain, Peterson yanked his hand back and pulled the small table up into the air. He was about to protest when he saw the centimeter-long sliver, that looked more like a piranha's tooth, held firmly in the tweezers grasp. "God…what is it?"

  "The result of your ignorance," Choi said as she looked over the thorny object. Peterson didn't offer a defense. Choi continued, "My best guess is it's a stinger."

  Harris was behind Choi now, his expression stern. "Like a bee?"

  Choi nodded.

  Peterson looked down at his hand, which was covered in ruddy foam, blood and clear liquid. "Then I've been poisoned?"

  "We don't know what, if anything, you've been injected with," Choi said. "But it is certain that your body had a reaction to some kind of foreign substance. I would say you're lucky."

  "How's that?" Peterson said.

  "You are the first human being with which these Europhids have experienced physical contact. I highly doubt that whatever is in your system will accomplish what ever it was designed to do."

  "So I'll live?"

  Choi placed the stinger in a metal bowl and began removing her rubber gloves. "Fifty-fifty."

  "That's not funny," Peterson said as he began to free his injured hand from the straps that held him to the table.

  Choi stopped removing her second glove and stared Peterson down. "It wasn't meant to be. We have no idea what kind of toxin is in your system and how it will react. The only information that might relate is the incident involving your deceased crew member."

  Connelly's memory kicked in. After Peterson had been stung in the Bio-lab he mentioned not wanting to end up like someone. What was his name? But before Peterson could tell her who the man was, Peterson gasped in pain, surged forward and passed out. Twenty minutes later he awoke in the Med-lab and had been strapped down. What was his name? Benjamin? Bernard? She knew it began with a "B." "Benson." Connelly hadn't meant to say the name aloud, but everyone heard her.

  Harris squinted at Connelly and then shifted an angry stare to Peterson. "That was classified information, mister."

  Connelly sensed the water was rising up over her neck and would soon drown her and Peterson. "All he said was the name."

  Harris and Choi stared at her, obviously weighing their options, the result of which, Connelly could only imagine. Not wanting to wait to find out, Connelly decided to put the pieces together herself. Benson m
ust have been the crew member Choi mentioned. He had died from similar circumstances to Peterson's situation. Meaning what? Benson had come in contact with Europhids previous to the onset of this mission…on Earth.

  Connelly's eyes grew wide. "Why didn't you tell us?" Her question was directed at Harris.

  The sudden reversal of questioning unbalanced Harris's demeanor. "I, ah, I think you better—"

  "I think you better tell me the truth. Withholding information that could have got me or my crew injured or killed is not something I will tolerate."

  Harris stood silently. Choi watched him, apparently waiting to follow his lead.

  "Okay. You tell me if I'm wrong." Connelly turned her attention to Peterson. "Your discovery in the Arctic, the meteorite, contained a biological sample. Your crew member, Benson, came into contact with the sample and died. But his death didn't stop anyone from moving on, from considering the postponement of this mission."

  Peterson looked at Harris, then back to Connelly. "You got one thing wrong."

  Connelly crossed her arms.

  "Benson's death inspired the mission. There were no plans for a manned Europa expedition until after Benson died."

  Connelly's face fell flat. Anger vibrated through her body. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. The urge to punch Peterson was all consuming. But she knew two truths that kept her in check. First: today's incident was as much her fault as theirs. She shouldn't have encouraged Peterson by staying. What she should have done was report his actions to the captain and been done with it. Second, had she known about Benson's death, she would still have come to Europa. That didn't change the fact that the concealment of this information could have killed her friends.