Savage By Nature

by Jacob Russell Dring

  “Ah, and you three—or two—are the lions?” Mitchell said, cockeyed.

  “Oh, no, not at all. That would be Asher and the powers that be.” In as impulsive a burst as that was, Felina just said more than she wished she had.

  “Interesting. And you all, the sheep, then?” Mitchell shrugged. “No surprise, really. I mean, so far as this place goes. Asher is the Science Officer, right? Haven’t met the man myself but the way Cassel mentioned his name, not to mention his position aboard such a vessel, well…yeah, you get the picture.”

  “And then some,” Baez rolled her eyes.

  “Kitty can scratch,” Ballard laughed.

  “More than that, if you say it again,” Baez shot back.

  “Easy there, Ballard.” Mitchell grinned through his thick beard. “Don’t mind him. Baez, is it? So why the hostility towards Asher?”

  “Nothing hostile, just differences.” Felina was adamant to put this case to rest.

  Mitchell wasn’t blind, and displayed his skeptical concern through his intent gaze. Finally he dropped it though and patted Ballard on the back.

  “Let’s get going,” he said at last. “Nice meeting you two, again. Hopefully catch you later today, or tomorrow. Hell, we got all week!”

  The thought of staying aboard for the rest of the week in its entirety made Felina’s skin crawl. Sure, she wanted to know more about the Xeno Project—had to, really. But recalling the creatures in MALBO and the grim authority of Asher didn’t put her mind to rest.

  The three-man crew of Samum were on their way down the corridor in good time. Felina wanted to talk with them more, although on what matter she wasn’t sure, nor the direction of any said conversation. As it was, they only had about fifty minutes left in their break. And then what? A return to MALBO, Felina assumed, or perhaps a tour of the secondary labs. Regardless, it meant she needed some rest of her eyes and mind, especially the latter. She was faintly apprehensive of having nightmares, especially now, but didn’t let it interfere with her notion of a respite. While Baez wanted to continue the conversation and argued that maybe it was best they push the idea of a belligerent Asher, Felina ultimately drew her white flag.

  “I’m going to take a nap, Baez. Frankly? I’m tired as shit. My mind’s fried.”

  Baez sighed. “No, you’re probably right. I wouldn’t mind catching a few Z’s myself. The struggle will be acquiring them and holding on.”

  “It’s about a quarter to two. Best we take what we can get. Unless you’re still hungry.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “Kind of,” Felina grinned.

  Baez smirked. “I’ll follow you.”

  “To the lounging facility?” Felina said. Baez nodded. “Well, I’m going to the lavatory first.”

  “Okay,” Baez said, sounding tired already. It seemed to have instantly caught up with her. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

  “Yup.” Felina patted Baez on the shoulder and their paths dissected in the corridor. As Baez rounded the corner back the way they had come, Felina backed into a wall and just stood there. Her head tilted back, eyes up at the blank LED-panel ceiling. Thoughts rummaged around in her head at light-speed, contesting for validity.

  Little she had up there would ever see the light of day, especially now. She didn’t believe alerting the Samum crew to the Xeno Project because she didn’t want to spur any kind of panic, especially now that they knew Ballard was an ETL fanatic. Basically a more clueless version of Calloway, which Felina wasn’t sure was a bad thing or not. Regardless, more than one of him at any rate wasn’t too contenting.

  Eventually she dismissed the storm of them, or at least to a temporary burial in her subconscious, and moved onto the lavatory. She found one and attended it, after which led her to the nearest lounging facility, which happened to be a different one than before. Since there were only two in the entire vessel, she knew the one she currently visited was astern and starboard, on the other side of where Baez had gone. No matter, this probably just meant a quicker return to the labs, although such a fact didn’t placate her much.

  This lounging facility was no different than the other, in fact they were about as identical as possible. Same layout, even, and relaxation options. There were four men already present, all of whom wore the same uniform; she discerned them to be technicians. This didn’t give the room a very pleasant odor, but it wasn’t anything that would keep her awake. At the moment, very little could hold that power over her.

  So she took to a Chaise lounge chair and retired there.

  Her brain, however, was a maelstrom of images and warped footage as if from a damaged hologram display, but the abstractness let her sleep.

  Through this protracted mural of obscurity there was a complete absence of time. She woke sooner than she would’ve liked, shocked that she had acquired such placation from a nap. The dreams she had experienced were beyond her comprehension and she didn’t mind leaving them at that; let the shapes remain shrouded in shadow, let their speech stay distorted. When she woke, though, it wasn’t from Birch’s two o’clock announcement. It was due to a rigorous shaking by Loudon, who stood before her backed by Baez and Schuman. Ngo, Baxter, and Zometa were behind them.

  “Wake up sleepyhead,” Baez said, half-smirking. She approached to stand beside Loudon as Felina groggily got up from the Chaise lounge chair. She felt cramps ripple through her body. She rubbed her head, eyes, took a brief yawn, then gathered her senses and stood.

  “I assume it’s after two,” Felina said, “or you wouldn’t have woken me…‘so soon.’”

  “You’re observant,” Schuman said sarcastically. “What you might not realize is that it’s almost two-thirty and Cassel rounded us up outside the cafeteria at about two-ten to lead us back to the labs. Said she’ll be touring us down there, because apparently your best pal Asher is tending to some ‘unrest’ in MALBO.”

  “Ah. That’s comforting,” Felina sighed.

  “We all thought so.” Schuman appeared and sounded no more than lackadaisical, if not utterly bored. “Anyway, Godunov and Wisniewski claimed impatience and led themselves down to the labs. Cassel told them to wait but when Godunov expressed partial compliance, Wisniewski played the asshole card and stormed off. Godunov followed, so Cassel went after them and told Baez and Loudon to find you; since the bay door down there requires Cassel’s code to pass through, she knew Godunov and Wisniewski would just have to wait.”

  “What about Calloway, he follow them too?”

  Loudon scoffed. “Nobody’s seen him.”

  “Not since I spotted him leave the cafeteria about ten ‘til two, without emptying his tray,” Zometa said. She shrugged. “He seemed kind of pissed.”

  “Could you see the table he was sitting at the whole time you were eating?” Felina asked, cockeyed.

  “No, it was so crowded. That close to two, though, half the place cleared out by then.” Zometa gestured at Baxter and Schuman. “I was sitting with them.”

  “And you?” Felina nodded at Ngo.

  “Alone.” Ngo shrugged. “Well, not with any other documenter. I kind of sat in a corner with my PDA. Some technicians around me, but I kept distance from the white coats.”

  “Not many of those in the cafeteria today, though,” Schuman said.

  “I wonder why,” Baxter mulled obliviously.

  “Right, well, I have an idea.” Felina sighed and finished reorienting. First she made sure her PDA was still with her, then she was first out the door of the otherwise empty lounging facility. “So, Calloway is MIA and there’s supposedly ‘unrest’ in MALBO? What about the Samum crew—did any of you cross their path?”

  “Haven’t seen them since debarking a few days ago,” Baxter said. Ngo, Schuman, and Zometa confirmed.

  “Well I have. Calloway, Baez, and Loudon—briefly—all have. They’re nice folk, but Calloway pissed them off so they’re a tad short with us.”

  They took this in.

  “Calloway pissing someon
e off?” Schuman said, wearing a dramatic look of shock. “Now that’s something I can’t imagine.”

  “Sarcasm aside, Schuman,” Felina said, “we need o find him before we meet up with the others.”

  “Why so imperative? Let him wander.” Zometa seemed unfazed by his absence.

  “Because,” Felina insisted, stopping midstride to glare at Zometa and the others, “he knows what we do, and despite what I insinuated to SC6, he actually wants to expose the truth forthright. Starting with the Samum crew.”

  Everyone present didn’t need to say a word to express how weary they were of such an idea.

  “Precisely why we need to find him ASAP,” Felina said, and resumed her walk. She mentally thanked her sense of memory in retracing her steps back to the main corridor which was copiously labeled at every corner. Baxter dexterously checked her PDA to confirm that they were on the right track, and was pleasantly surprised to see they were.

  Felina smirked to herself.

  Then she raised an eyebrow in question, although knowing that as vanguard of the group nobody could see her face at the moment.

  “So if Cassel sent Baez and Loudon to find me, why are you three here?” Felina asked.

  “We were sent to find Calloway. We searched far and wide before bumping into Baez and Loudon on this end of the ship,” Baxter said. Everyone briefly stared at her. She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Sorry. Vessel.”

  “Right, anyway,” Schuman continued, failing to hide a simper. “One find is better than none. I imagine we’ll find Calloway eventually. I don’t mind spending time searching for him. Haven’t had much freedom wandering the Manticore so far anyway. Besides, the secondary labs? Psh, no thanks. Not today. I think I’m good, unless they wanna show us more of MALBO.”

  Felina laughed tersely. “You want to see more?”

  “Of course,” Schuman retorted. “Don’t act like you don’t. Fear is one thing, repulsion and anger part of the same tree. But so is awe and marvel. Don’t pretend like curiosity falls far from that tree, too. You are who you are for a reason. We’re all USRD documenters; sure, different traits, different people. But—”

  “Shh!” Loudon abruptly hushed Schuman. She had a finger to her lips and her eyes wide before narrowing. They currently occupied the portside corridor just past the main cafeteria. It was 2:32 so passersby were nonexistent; most of the staff were probably just now getting situated in their offices and workstations. But in this stillness, even over Schuman’s voice, Loudon was able to detect a muffled voice from somewhere in the corridor.

  Now it was she who led the group, slinking down the corridor on their tiptoes. Loudon eventually stopped outside a lavatory entrance with a lopsided smirk on her face and eyebrows high, her gaze set on Felina.

  “I found Waldo.”

  “Good work, Sherlock,” Felina replied with a smirk and roll of her eyes.

  Baez and Baxter looked confused.

  “Who?” Baxter asked, brow furrowed.

  “Oh, c’mon, I’m only a few years older than you.” Felina’s words didn’t have a big impact on either Baxter or Baez, who finally abandoned their confusion in lieu of more significant matters.

  The muffled masculine voice from within the men’s lavatory was evidently Calloway’s. He seemed to be talking to himself, perhaps recording audio for a dictation; regarding what, Felina could only begin to imagine, and it made her throb with impatience.

  “Well, what are we waiting for?” Felina hissed.

  “Him to finish, then we’ll get him as he’s leaving,” Loudon said.

  “You can’t be serious. For all we know he could be hacking into the bridge so he can access the intercom or—”

  “Are you listening to yourself, Sabartinelli?” Baxter said snidely. “The man’s a documenter, not a tech-mastermind. Besides, it is a lavatory. He could be using the toilet, too.”

  “I say we wait,” Zometa shrugged, unfazed. “There’s no harm in that.”

  “Schuman, what time is it?” Felina said calmly, matter-of-factly, gesturing at the man.

  “Um…two-forty.”

  “Uh-huh. Forty minutes after the two o’clock call. I was asleep; and his excuse? Dictating probably classified information while possibly using the—”

  “Excuse me, please,” a man’s voice said, startling half of them. He had turned the nearest corner, and was already walking through the throng of USRD documenters without much concern. According to his uniform he was an alchemist, and his swaying ID tag deemed him Albert Lowman. He was of average height and figure, a regular looking forty-something man with light brown hair and pale skin.

  Suddenly Loudon grabbed him by his left bicep and pulled him aside. Startled, he exclaimed an expletive and tried to push himself away. She seized a handful of his shirt and attempted to restrain him by practically throwing him against the wall, all while insisting he be quiet. Obviously, Lowman was intent on doing just the opposite. Meanwhile Felina, trying to keep her voice down as if it mattered anymore, did her best to placate the two of them—especially Loudon, who was clearly overreacting.

  Schuman stepped in to really break them up, ultimately making Lowman stagger backwards with a flabbergasted expression. He began irately readjusting his ruffled uniform, panting and struggling to grasp his words.

  He called Loudon crazy, for one, and also accused the others of harassment, before ultimately saying he would inform Ensign Cassel about this.

  Schuman stepped toward him with a forced smile, doing his sincerest to calm the man and reassure him of the misunderstanding.

  And then the lavatory door opened, and all eyes pivoted to Calloway. He stood in the doorway, suddenly aware that he shouldn’t have left the stall so soon.

  Before he could properly react, Zometa surprised everyone by taking fistfuls of his uniform shirt and pinning him to the wall. Sure, Calloway had nearly eight inches of height over Zometa, but that didn’t stake her furor. She practically growled up at him, demanding he tell them the truth, about what he was doing in there and what his plan is. She began speaking Spanish, which didn’t alleviate the chaos of the situation, nor Calloway’s confusion.

  “Stop fucking around!” Zometa eventually blurted, and slapped Calloway across the face with her left hand. She was pulled away by Baxter and Ngo, but sooner calmed herself down than either of them did. Calloway, meanwhile, had his back to the wall grasping his own face and confirming that his PDA was still in its sleeve—more importantly, undamaged.

  “Preparing a speech for the Manticore, were you?” Felina accused him. “Or maybe the media back on Earth? Whatever your angle, right?”

  “Hey, my homework—my privacy,” he snapped back. “Find your own inside scoop.”

  “Can I punch him?” Loudon asked, her back turned on Schuman who had begun to actually pacify Lowman.

  “I vote no,” Calloway raised a forefinger.

  “Shut the hell up, Cal—”

  “Wait!” Ngo blurted, stepping forward and interrupting Felina midsentence. “Calloway, what did you just say? About an…inside scoop?”

  “One of the scientists in MALBO hacked into my PDA after you three left,” Calloway nodded at Felina, Loudon, and Baez. “Told me to meet him by this lavatory at one-forty. He made sure I wasn’t recording his voice, then told me more about the Xeno Project. Not a lot, but more than Asher would reveal. After he left, well, like I said—homework time.”

  Felina wanted to smack that smirk off his face.

  Loudon wanted to dishevel a tooth from it.

  And then Ngo asked who the scientist was.

  “I honestly don’t even know,” Calloway said, and despite all of his nonsense Felina could tell in that instant he was being ingenuous. Calloway shrugged and kneaded his forehead briefly. “The man had enough wit to hide his ID tag and tell me he didn’t exist so long as Keyes was still Captain. He did say Cassel can be trusted, though…but I’m not saying anything else.”

  “What did he look like?” Ngo inquired
, reaching for his own PDA.

  Calloway shrugged. “What’s it matter? I’ve seen a few Indian scientists here. Could be—”

  “Madhavari,” Felina muttered.

  “Who?” said half of them in unison, while Calloway cocked an eye. He was already reaching for his PDA while Felina continued to talk, appearing a bit zoned out.

  “Sanjit Madhavari. A white-coat Loudon and I bumped into on our first official day. We were in the main cafeteria. He was friendly, but reassuring. So reassuring…”

  “I knew it,” Loudon said bitterly.

  “I don’t know what you people are talking about, but I assure you Madhavari can’t be trusted. He has too many theories on too many things.”

  Everyone turned to face Lowman, who appeared to have calmed but didn’t seem pleased to hear the scientist’s name.

  “What do you know about what happens down in MALBO?” Calloway said with a touch of scorn.

  Lowman looked confused. “What the hell is MALBO?”

  There was no time to address this perplexity, because just then an alarm sounded. It was shrill and permeating; an incessant blaring, somewhere between an air horn and a police siren. It had a strident crescendo that dipped into a low hum, giving the ears a rest before resuming the barrage of sound. Paired with this discordance was a rhythmic flashing of the LED ceiling panels, which eventually stopped, only to be replaced by a blinking white light every ten feet.

  The alarm itself muted twenty seconds in, during which the documenters remained outside the lavatory in a stunned manner. Meanwhile Lowman had begun to backpedal through the corridor, but Schuman was adamantly successful in hindering him.

  “What’s the alarm for!?” Schuman barked.

  Felina was shocked to see the amount of energy coursing through him, which he practically spat into Lowman’s face. He was presently doing to the man what Loudon had earlier, only far more triumphantly.

  “I-I don’t know, h-honestly!” Lowman stammered in a bout of confusion. “It…it sounded f-familiar, but nothing…n-nothing that I recognize!”

  “Familiar how?” Schuman asked.

  “It was familiar,” Calloway said, eyebrows raised along with a forefinger.