Savage By Nature

by Jacob Russell Dring

  Their third day aboard the Manticore began tomorrow.

  Felina couldn’t help but hope for the best, and…

  She left it at that.

  5

  Seven more days aboard the Manticore, Felina wasn’t positive she wanted to remain for that long. These past three had been oddly exhilarating as it were, ambivalently confusing her subconscious. Fortunately last night had been a vacancy for nightmares, and the few dreams she recalled were splotchy memories of Earth. She attributed this substantial slumber to the general relaxation she’d enjoyed yesterday, despite the tour-cancellation news.

  And then there was the other thought.

  Felina believed that, after today’s much anticipated tour of the Manticore labs, she would want to stay even longer. Her excitation wouldn’t be able to sustain seven days, more would be necessary. At the moment, of course, this thought made her laugh.

  Presently Felina was dressed in uniform, PDA in back sleeve, and lingering outside her lodging with the others. Unlike the previous morning, there were no sporadic groups. Everyone was ready to go at the crack of dawn, eager and impatient.

  Felina had been third out, behind Calloway and Godunov, surprisingly enough. Then Baez, Loudon, Baxter, and Ngo almost simultaneously. Next were the others—Zometa, Schuman, and Wisniewski—seconds later. No huge gaps, and everyone was left to linger outside their auto-doors for about the same period of time.

  Not as much chitchat as before, either, nor as Felina had expected. She’d foreseen a lot of conversation and even theorizing between the documenters, although not necessarily herself. But not a peep escaped the men and women’s lips, not even Calloway. Just dancing eyes, wide-awake gazes, pivoting heads, rolling shoulders, and fidgeting fingers.

  For a while half of the group were actively on their PDA’s. As if the previous day hadn’t given them enough time to study the Manticore map or scrutinize their data.

  It was just a passing of time and boredom.

  Their monotonous impatience didn’t last terribly long, though. After about five minutes the wait was over, Cassel’s arrival punctuating it with a chipper stride. She donned a surprisingly lustrous grin and eyes brighter than anyone’s should be at this time of morning.

  “Ah, good morning ladies and gentleman,” she greeted. She clapped her hands together, rubbing them, then putting them behind her back. “It appears all of you are present, excellent. So I imagine you’re all very enthusiastic to tour the labs this morning, and I assure you that there’ll be no further delay. Again, on behalf of Captain Keyes, Imam Ikabu, Thomas Asher, and the entire laboratory staff, I sincerely apologize for the postponement. At last, any questions you may have—any, whatsoever, regarding the labs themselves or the projects being worked on within—Asher will be more than glad to answer them. Now, if you all will follow me, please.”

  The ten documenters proceeded in suit, their cluster ever-shifting like a group of friends at a concert.

  Their arrival at the main labs was preceded by trivial changes in their setting. Corridors became all-white from floor to ceiling, with every third bulkhead panel being a gunmetal gray. Auto-doors from corridor to corridor opened diagonally from the center, and with such smoothness that they made the ones to the cafeteria look like their 21st century counterparts. It was evident to everyone that the bulk of the USRD’s focus and funding was this part of the Manticore, its main labs.

  This wasn’t entirely surprising, as it was a research vessel, but the staggering differences took Felina aback slightly. And then they were there, as if turning a corner and entering a portal that dropped them off at a bay door that Cassel accessed via keypad. Beyond it, the corridor’s mouth opened up to a fork in their path with a high ceiling. The right side offered a basic auto-door continuation into the secondary labs, according to Cassel, whose focuses included rudimentary research and analyses of side projects separate from Asher’s supervision. Although this mentioning piqued some of the documenters’ curiosity, including Felina herself, it was a fleeting notion. Their primary concern and interest was Asher, and whatever projects he led in the main labs. Meanwhile the left side of their proverbial fork-in-the-road showcased a bay door-sized glass entrance with a hexagonal shape.

  “Depending on how much of your time is spent in the main labs,” Cassel spoke, her voice giving off a slight echo in the antechamber, “you may or may not have time to tour the secondary. But, I promise you, with seven days left you certainly won’t miss out on a single inch of this vessel. Now, if you could follow me please…I give you, the main labs’ foyer.”

  The hexagonal glass auto-door opened vertically, permitting access. Cassel led the group of documenters into the all-white foyer, which was almost blinding with its immaculacy. The door had opened with a hiss, and so it closed, not quite as silent as its corridor predecessors, although it was twice their size. It sealed with a notably glass twang, but was supremely unyielding and resilient. The foyer itself was wide with a high yet slanted ceiling, its slope occupying the entrance side of the room. Set directly ahead of them was a front desk not unlike a high-security bank, with glass dividers and apertures for hand transactions. Here, Felina imagined it was for safety and sanitary concerns, seeing as how most medical and science-based sections of USRD structures had such high standard protocols. Behind the counter and glass partitions sat three individuals donning all-white uniforms similar to Asher’s but with V-necked shirt collars; two of them were women, their dark hair tied back in close buns. The man was clean-shaven and fair-haired. They wore expressions of monotony and tended to the terminals directly in front of them without ever looking up.

  “And this is where I leave you all, at least for now,” Cassel announced. She glimpsed the digital time readout on a wall display and smiled briefly. “We’re a few minutes early. Asher should be out shortly, no concern on waiting, he is usually a man of being early if not on time. Again, sincerest apologies all-around regarding yesterday. We all hope you enjoy your tour of the labs and what the Manticore has to offer your reports intrigues you in every fashion. When lunchtime arrives, Asher or another lab member will direct you back to the main corridor and you may make your way to the cafeteria.”

  “Wait, are you suggesting we’ll be here for the next five and a half hours?” Wisniewski asked, sounding both irritated and skeptical.

  “If not more, that is, returning after lunchtime ends.” Cassel’s smile was gone entirely, as if it had vacated the foyer and was already en route back through the corridors. Her expression was purely matter-of-fact and her voice had been replaced with a bland twang. “I assure you all, you’ll be quite engrossed with everything that Asher and his team has to show you. But I will be seeing you again today. Thank you for your patience.”

  With that, Cassel attended the front desk to have a brief word with one of the women there. They exchanged nods, then Cassel passed by the documenters informing them that Asher was on his way up. Then her back was to them and she exited the main labs’ foyer. The glass auto-door sealed behind her and her opaque silhouette could be seen leaving the area via the corridor mouth they had passed through earlier.

  A peculiar, impeccable silence settled over them just then. Everyone let their gazes study each of the foyer’s tiniest feature from the crevasses in its large white tiles to the subtle stucco ceiling. Felina even branched out from the group to find herself standing below one of the corners, nearest the entrance door, looking up and tilting her head. Schuman soon accompanied her side, gazing up as well, a studiously inquisitive look upon his face. He then gazed over at Felina and caught her attention, dragging her as if out of a daze.

  “So do you really think there was ever any maintenance?” Felina asked, her voice low, although she knew that if it was an auditory camera as well then whispering wouldn’t elude its sensors.

  Schuman shrugged. He didn’t seem intent on engaging her questions with his own voice, however his presence at her side spoke loudly enough. His incredulity went hand-in-hand w
ith hers, undoubtedly, afterall he’d been the one to further inquire Ikabu about it.

  The dome security camera above them appeared in righteous condition. According to Ochoa it had been an easily-fixed hardware malfunction, though this didn’t answer much. Looking around the rest of the foyer, everything appeared to be in check. No signs of contamination, damage, or anything at all out of place. The latter was hard to tell regardless, seeing as how there was little to distinguish in the foyer. No images on the walls, no displays except for the time readout, and only one row of cushioned steel-framed seating. This was a connected bench of eight seats, apparently fused to the running board, with small unoccupied end tables between each one.

  “At least everything appears to be—”

  “Right as rain,” Calloway interrupted Felina, all of a sudden closer than she’d expected by the sound of his voice. It was hushed, but he was within reach of her, though his eyes spent more time on Schuman and the dome camera than her.

  She began to retort but again was interjected, this time by someone she wouldn’t mind surrendering words to. At least so that she could be enlightened and relieved of frustration.

  Thomas Asher emerged from one of two regular-sized glass auto-doors in the foyer, this one to the right of the front desk. He was in full uniform, arms extended briefly to welcome them, wearing a peculiar smile that nonetheless irked Felina. Then his arms flopped at his side, fingers fidgeting where they dangled, and the auto-door sealed behind him. Alike Cassel, he apologized for the delay and unfortunate tour cessation yesterday, but claimed to “more than make-up for it today.”

  Less words, more deeds, Felina’s subconscious muttered.

  “Now, if you could follow me, please,” Asher beckoned them as he turned his back and reentered through the same auto-door he’d just used. The group of documenters trailed him by a six-foot gap, Loudon and Ngo leading down the corridor. Then Godunov, Calloway, and Felina. The others clustered the rear with no apparent avidity to advance.

  The labs were about as white as one might perceive a star in all its slowly fading brilliance. Each wall a portrayal of perfection, each ceiling unblemished, every floor tile impeccable. Only the floors were a slight off-white, almost cream color. The general motif from laboratory room to room was white, one might even suggest pallid as a cadaver.

  At this simple notion that might’ve passed through a few minds besides just Felina’s in the touring group, someone voiced.

  “Do you run tests on deceased humans?” It was Ngo. His words stopped the group midstride, and Asher turned on his heel to raise an eyebrow at him. Ngo cleared his throat. “I mean, like, for the CDC? Treatments, cures, but with more resources and higher funding?”

  “This isn’t quite a medical vessel, Ngo,” Asher replied, squinting to discern his ID tag. He then relaxed and smirked eccentrically. “Besides…running tests on corpses? Don’t be absurd. We are…shall, I say, well beyond that.”

  Ngo’s eyes lit up. He wasn’t the only one.

  “A cure?” Wisniewski asked, probably suggesting a permanent treatment for cancer or even arthritis.

  “Let’s turn the page, gentlemen,” Asher said simply, his expression’s euphoria fading. “Better yet, let’s turn the corner. Follow me, please. These rooms you’re passing are analysis labs. Not much to see except for data terminals and examination equipment. You will notice the occasional examiner’s slab. Please note the cleanliness and sanitization of each room, as we do take pride in keeping the Manticore properly decontaminated at all times. Now, I am leading you all to the main labs’ heart, the central focus of the Manticore’s personnel; at least, its key members.”

  Asher sighed and paused in front of a pneumatic bay door to which they had arrived via a narrow corridor that opened up into a widened ramp. The floor was close-knitted grating, aside from the solid metallic ramp and its raised edges; walls and ceiling all exhibited an industrial atmosphere, reminding them of the docking foyer. This area looked more like an umbilical bridge than sub-corridor, which they knew it was due to the depth of the Manticore’s bowels in which they now occupied.

  It was unavoidable not to acknowledge the high security design of this vessel’s laboratories. Felina knew the USRD took pride in its craftsmanship, but thought that this level of security for mere analysis labs was a tad excessive.

  Or was it?

  Felina held her tongue in lieu of Asher speaking.

  She and the others had waited long enough to take this tour. She had an odd feeling that they wouldn’t be given the same circus of elusive information Ikabu had fed them yesterday.

  “That said,” Asher continued, his back to the bay door and his hands raised, palms facing the group as if in a surrendering pose. “You all are now considered its key personnel. Besides myself, Ikabu, Cassel, and Keyes, nobody else aboard this vessel has seen what you’re about to.”

  “Not even Ikabu’s sentinels?” Schuman asked.

  “Not even,” Asher said, and let loose a curt smirk that unnerved Felina beneath her skin. It quickly evaporated and his solemn expression resumed. “But, they do know of the project. Just not the specifics…no eyewitness accounts from them. Although I assure you all, security isn’t something we take lightly here. But…we’ll get to that stage eventually. Now, if you may follow me and keep your questions on hold until I address them. In the event that anyone wants to take a seat, I’ve gathered arrangements.”

  Already Felina felt weak in the knees.

  What was this all about? What could possibly—

  Asher approached the bay door and inputted a passcode into a nearby keypad. Felina assumed it was a fingerprint scanner, too, alike the security center’s. Metallic sibilations could be heard as the bay door’s gears spun and its pneumatic pumps depressurized. The massive steel gate lifted vertically from the floor, receding into a slot in the ceiling. Asher led the group of USRD documenters over the threshold and into what he claimed was the heart of the main labs, and according to their PDA’s not even on the map.

  When Schuman asked Asher what this area was officially called, the response was simple.

  “Main labs, base of operations; or MALBO.”

  Asher didn’t sound too pleased answering that question, probably because he wasn’t fond of the name nor just being asked it. He was evidently a man of discretion but in lieu of that concept he seemed rather excited to give them a tour of the labs. Or at least these parts of it, since their guide through the preceding rooms had been fleeting to say the least. There was little detail about them, and little chance to actually observe anything. Felina felt like she was at a petting zoo but the signs said ‘do not touch the animals.’ It was an unjust tease, but on second thought neither she nor the other documenters were exactly on par with the scientists’ sanitization protocols. Everyone she saw working in the labs to this point had been wearing nitrile gloves and on occasion even surgical facemasks. The open white coats themselves were more common, and upon entering MALBO through the bay door Felina felt like most of what she saw were coattails. Like the plumage of human doves bustling about, walking to and fro with great haste.

  The amount of scientists ‘topside’ paled in comparison to down here.

  They passed through a small foyer where scientists crossed paths without much discretion or care, occasionally bumping into a documenter. No apologies were made by them, their faces either concealed by masks or sheer lack of manners.

  Busy bees.

  Asher led them past the foyer and down a ramp that branched off into three different auto-door entrances. Above these were hologram signs indicating what Asher began to narrate.

  “To our far right is the entrance to MALBO’s Testing Installation, which we’ll tour last. Center is the entrance to MALBO’s Intermediate Facilities, and to our far left is the Observation Compound. Follow me, and I’ll show you what it is we’re observing.”

  Everyone enthusiastically followed Asher through the leftmost auto-door, despite Felina’s intrigue sna
gging her far right. What were they testing—out, on, with? She preferred the chronological stage of introductions and explications. But after yesterday, perhaps Asher—or Keyes—wanted to give them the crash-course. The force-fed dessert per se, never mind the foreplay.

  Unlike the rest of the labs, and essentially the entirety of the Manticore except for its docking foyers, this alleged Observation Compound was the opposite of pristine. Given, Asher assured us not to judge this book by its cover—decontamination, sterilization, and cleanliness was key. Right down to dusting and vacuuming, he wryly joked, but these bland pipe-laden industrial-faceted corridors weren’t a key focus. Their bland gray and black bulkheads with steel grating paths were merely to minimalize cost and simplify freight travels.

  Reassurances aside, Felina couldn’t care less.

  Down here she was already shocked to have seen so much refinement before now, considering the depth of the vessel they inhabited. Short of being able to see exposed wiring circuits, Felina didn’t make much of it; she would note it in her report but it’d be a mark of triviality. This, supposing she remembered to—Asher’s constructed hype was beginning to build less anticipation in Felina and more annoyance. Her excitation began to lilt negatively, just as he allegedly led them into one of four primary observation chambers.

  “One of four?” Felina spoke. “What’s in the other three?”

  “Why, the other specimens, of course,” Asher replied lackadaisically before entering the passcode next to the auto-door. This s-word held them all captive with excitation. Asher smiled and although it might’ve unnerved Felina under any other circumstance, it currently held her enrapt with curiosity. Her intrigue had caught up to her like a train set to derail. “We have twelve healthy specimens total…three in each chamber. And please, remember what I said—hold your questions at first.”

  Asher entered via the auto-door, and the documenters followed with great enthusiasm. Some of them borderline stampeded into the broad chamber, squeezing through the narrow doorway. Inside, the observation chamber was entirely disparate from the linking corridors in that it was pristine from floor to ceiling, wall to wall. Two examination slabs parted from the center, and a few steel-framed cushioned seats scattered about, clearly out of place.