by Chris Hechtl
But if they were going to go, he was sure his kind would go as well. Some were already on the ground, serving if they were still alive. Others like Buster Bumper's brother had already volunteered to go.
“We’re needed,” Faith said through her vocoder. Betsy nodded in support. Faith was a gen 0.8, the first of their kind to be able to walk on their hind legs without the need of an exowalker for support. She had terrible back and neck pain, and arthritis was starting to set in to her hips and lumbar area, but she was determined to sit upright.
Scooby grunted and nodded. The elderly gen 0.8 Great Dane had been another first for their kind, the first to be able to speak human language. He sat down, tired old eyes watching over them from the background. Duncan's eyes caught his briefly then looked away from the elder.
It was unfair that the humans hadn't applied what they knew about geriatrics to them as they had the other Neos. They said it wasn't until they were smarter. He didn't like the answer, but he couldn't do anything to change their minds.
As a fireman, rescue tracker, and senior canine field medic in the group, Duncan's nose was alert for any sort of trouble. He surveyed the elders in the group carefully. He didn't want any of them to get too excited, too upset. Many of the older generation, those prior to gen 0.6, were in exowalkers, wheelchairs, or bailey chairs. He didn't envy their daily trials but he admired their spirit, their zest to continue with their life with what dignity they could muster.
“We must help,” Buster said. Duncan heard a soft whine. He turned but there was a snuffle and then a dog licked her lips and shook her head no as if to shrug off his concern. He looked away after a moment. Better not to put on a display and draw attention to Einstein's accident. The others could smell it that was bad enough to embarrass the once strong golden retriever.
“We go,” McGruff barked. Copper stood and nodded eagerly. Both of the bloodhounds could be counted on to support the humans. They were in security and served as police for the sector. They were also trained in Search and Recovery. McGruff had done a stint on the ground a few years ago. Duncan hoped the old boy knew what he was getting into.
Chance and Petey nodded. The brother pit bulls were adventure seekers, troublemakers. They had a good heart but a malicious streak, constantly getting into trouble with the cats. Chance loved his “kitty catapult” a little too much. It had brought a lot of hoots from just about everyone who had seen the video. Well, everyone except the cats that had been launched.
Hooch and Caffall both stood and nodded as well. The mastiffs were also in security so it was a given that they would go. Chips stood as well. His brother Blaze was down there; Duncan knew he would go.
Duncan noted all of the younger generation; those of his generation were stepping forward. He wasn't sure what motivated them to do so. Was it the sense of adventure like Chance and Petey had? It certainly wasn't duty, though he wasn't sure in the case of the security people.
Most of the elderly couldn't go. They were smart enough not to go; they would just be targets.
“I go,” Ace said, stepping up, ears alert. He was a no nonsense Doberman, one of the up-and-coming security officers. His brother Gunner stepped up, but Ace turned to him. “No. One must stay to protect pack,” he stated flatly.
Gunner whined. When his brother growled softly, he straightened to attention and then nodded, eyes staring ahead.
“I go,” Duncan said softly. All eyes turned to him. He ignored some of the soft gasps of surprise and dismay. “Medic needed.”
“Medic needed here too,” Scooby said. But after a long moment of looking into Duncan's eyes, seeing the resolve, the Great Dane nodded. “Luck,” he barked.
Duncan nodded, wagging his tail slightly. He wasn't certain why he wanted to go, just that he did. He had to help; it was his calling. What he'd trained to do.
<>V<>
Tumagar surveyed his clan and nodded to himself. He was a selkie walrus, one of the few remaining that had been liberated from Gentek's labs. He'd hated it, hated the scientists there. Lagroose was his life, his second chance, his dream made flesh.
He was the beach master, the senior-most bull of the clan. The clan was patriarchal. Originally it had been open to all species of Selkie, but over time it had been reduced to just elephant seals and Walruses as the other subspecies went off to form their own breeding colonies. Some things, some traditions did not change despite human attempts to do so however. A beach master was the king of the clan, the final word on all things.
Two dozen selkies had survived the move from Gentek. To date, another dozen were missing. They were presumed to be slaves of Pavilion or one of the other megacorps. A few of the romantics in the clans insisted they'd found a way to a sea and were living there even now, which made their opposition to what he proposed even harder for him to comprehend.
“It is time. Time to stand. Time to do what is right,” Tumagar rumbled. “I ask not that you join me. I ask only that you understand. That you do your best to contribute as your heart dictates.”
“We don't owe the humans anything. They brought this onto themselves,” a female with a suckling calf said, shielding her pup with her flippered arm.
Tumagar envied the latest generation. Each that had come after him had been cleaned of the genetic defects that were in his flesh. Each generation had proven smarter than him in so many ways. But none dared out mass him. A few had tried to take his beach; he bore their battle scars with pride. They bore harsher ones. They also had been banished from the clan, though some still lingered in the outskirts he knew.
He had a human job to go along with his selkie one. Most of the selkie preferred to remain in the habitat they shared with the dolphins, though they tended to bicker with them frequently. He had accepted the dolphins. He'd come from a confining habitat in Gentek's lab; the massive complex was a gift beyond imagining to him to this day he thought, looking around the vast room.
He loved his job with security. He didn't throw his weight around; he had no need to most of the year. He'd earned the respect from his brother officers as well as the company employees.
He was beach master; it was his job to protect them. He just wished they understood the concept as easily as he did.
“I'm not saying we do or we don't. I'm saying if we do nothing, we exist. For a time. But eventually, the machine will win. Eventually it will finish killing the humans on Earth. It will poison the seas there.”
“So? They are filled with the sharp teeth. The sharks,” Nerromiktok said in disgust.
“And they are filled with our Neodolphin brethren who went there to help save others earlier. Who went to help clean up the seas,” Tumagar said stubbornly.
“There are seas on the red world below. Why won't they let us go there?”
“Because it isn't ready. There aren't enough fish. Not enough life. The air is thin. Tw'tw'ch'ka went and didn't live long.”
“She was near the end of her life anyway.”
“But she went. And others will follow. Have followed and will continue to do so.”
“When they let us. If you ask me, this is a conspiracy,” Bertha said in disgust.
“To do what exactly?” Tumagar asked in exasperation. “Why would they destroy themselves to keep us from the oceans? To what reason? It is foolishness. You waste air with your thoughts. Do not pollute our air with such things. We have not the oxygen or the time to deal with them,” the old battle scared bull stated flatly. “I'm going. That part is final.”
“You do what you like.”
“I will. I just wish you saw what needed to be done and did it with me,” Tumagar said sadly, turning away.
“You risk your position as the beach master for what?” Malik, his latest son asked derisively. “Glory? Bah, it is worthless.”
“I'm not doing it for glory. I am doing it because it is the right thing to do,” Tumagar roared. The young bull flinched. “Try to get that through your thick skull while I'm gone! And if anyone harms my pups while I
am gone, there will be hell to pay!” he continued, glaring at the male, then the other young males on the outer edge of the colony. “We are not animals! Stop acting like it!”
“Some of us do,” Eska said. “But there are pups to be raised. Duties here,” Eska said softly. “I won't ask you not to go,” she said, turning her sad eyes to his. “But be safe?”
“I can't promise that,” he replied, pushing her against his bulk in an embrace. “But I will do my best.”
“Then do that then,” Eska said softly. She reached up to stroke his bristly mustache, and then as he leaned down and closed his eyes she stood as high as her flippers would allow to touch his forehead to his. She had to chuckle softly though as he tucked his giant tusks into his chest to keep from impaling her. “Always protecting us,” she murmured.
“It is my duty.”
“Then do your duty. And come back to be our beach master once more. If you are able,” she murmured.
“I will. You can count on that.”
Chapter 10
Getting the meeting with the other corporate heads plus the president of Mars had been easier said than done. They were doing it, but it was a royal pain in the ass. He hoped it wouldn't turn out to be a complete mess or worse a complete waste of time, but he had to do something. They had to do something.
His eyes surveyed the conference room. There were other conference rooms set up, but this one was the main one. Most of the people who had any sort of input were there in that room or attending virtually.
Just getting everyone in the area on board was a hassle, getting them to meet in person even more so. Everyone was paranoid; everyone was on guard. He couldn't blame them, but it was a pain in the ass.
Four of their members were attending virtually; their stated excuse varied from the commute being too much of a hassle or a blunt one about the security risk was too high. That was fine; they had to put up with the time lag involved.
They had discussed the situation in pairs or small groups, but this was the first time they were trying a conference. Jack wasn't certain how it would go; many of them were used to running a board, not sitting down across the table from someone who was theoretically their equal. From their expressions and actions to date, some of the men and women around the room or attending virtually wanted to help. Others seemed only interested in it if someone else pays for it. That made Jack sick with disgust.
“I think we can safely assume we're going to be issuing some sort of war bond. I am not sure how we will work it out,” President Tenninson offered. “And no, I don't have any idea on collateral at this time. I'm not comfortable about shouldering the entire load on my planet either,” she said, looking around the room.
“What sort of interest rates and return are we talking about?” Piotr asked eagerly. Jack hid a grimace. Piotr Sikovavich was a banker, CEO of Interstellar Loans and Brokerages, so of course he was keenly interested in it.
“Loans and such are not enough.”
“Earth is our largest market. Mars is a far distant second. We can't write them off.”
“It isn't about markets, it's about lives—their lives and ours. What do you think the virus will do once it finishes with Earth? It will come after us.”
“Let it. It's at the bottom of the gravity well. We can knock it down.”
“And the transmissions? It's been broadcasting transmissions since it came online. We're blocking them but for how long before it finds a way through?”
“I don't want to sound like the mercantile one, but how are we supposed to pay for all this? The material we can get, yes, but we still have to pay the miners. We can't shut down our economy. We can't ask our people to work for free!”
“I'm not saying that. There can be volunteers, however. That worked during World War II. Volunteers stepped up in every way they could. They donated materials and their time to further the war effort.”
“Rosy the Riveter?” Lynn Raye offered in amusement. She smiled with a slight trace of mirth to Jack. Jack fought a sigh. Lynn was the CEO of Pavilon and quite ruthless. She was no friend to Jack though she liked to pretend they were cordial in public. Jack did so as well for the public image.
“Something like that. Tens of thousands did it.”
“True. And others donated materials for the war effort. They bought war bonds and joined militias,” Gus said. Gus Johnson was the CEO of Space Seed and Feed, a farming conglomerate in the space habitats. He looked the part of a deadpan farmer. Jack had done a lot of business with him over the years, building habitats and of course purchasing produce, fish, and meat from Gus's company. He hadn't needed to. His own farms supplied the company, but he'd done it in trade and to help Gus's company stay afloat and grow. Most of the surplus had gone into donations or had been stockpiled.
“Still …”
“Ask them. I'll bet you some have families down there. The chance to help them? To help children and those hurting?”
“What do we do? With refugees?”
“We have to have them first,” Shiela Vinichi said sourly. Sheila was the CEO of Radick Industries. She'd been out on Mars for a conference when all hell had broken loose. She was in the Mars president's office attending virtually.
Sheila was tall with a beautiful body. She was a bit of a vamp, flirting with all of the men from time to time. She'd taken advantage of her company's bioscience division to showcase her beauty, hair, and nails. Her hair and nails changed with her mood or was under her implant control. Jack had heard rumors that the woman had bioluminescent lighting under certain portions of her skin. Nasty gossip said it was for entertainment purposes or to guide clueless men to where to go.
“We can cross that bridge at a later time period.”
“Well, I say we resettle those who can work elsewhere. Hire them or whatever.”
“Where? The colonies are full!”
“We have several more under construction.”
“Construction has halted due to the crisis. I'm not having my people work on something when the client who was paying for it is radioactive vapor!” Ed Mickum, CEO of World Builders, stated flatly. Ed was a blunt, bluff man. He'd worked his way up through the ranks like Jack so he was a rare bird in their circle. He knew his business inside and out and was blunt to the point of rude when he wanted to make a point. His brutal honesty was refreshing to Jack; he always knew where he stood with Ed.
“We're still trying to do something with Venus. Not much luck.”
“People, people, we're getting well off track here. Focus. We need to create a symposium with an agenda to address each of those topics and others,” Shantell Sominall-Tenninson the president of Mars stated. “We can take some in on Mars.” Shantell was well known to Jack. She was the great granddaughter of Latisha Sominall, one of the first Mars explorers. She hadn't had to trade on her name, nor her connections to the Tenninson family to get elected, but the bloodline hadn't hurt her either. She was ten times preferable to the electorate over the two posers who had emigrated a year before the election to run against her. Both had had deep pockets too, which had made the electorate highly suspicious. After they had been trounced at the ballot box, one Sayina Hasak had reorganized and ran for lower office while the other, John Chill, had returned to Earth in disgrace.
“Who will pay for their transport? And they'll be sick … with radiation.”
“We can't just write them off!”
“We're in business …”
“We're also human beings. We have a duty to the human race.”
“To what? Bankrupt ourselves?”
“We pledge lives, our futures, our sacred honor, our immortal souls to be free,” the president murmured. Everyone quieted to look at her. There was an uncomfortable silence for a long moment. “For if we don't, we are but shadows of men, living in vacant halls waiting for the reaper to catch up to us.”
“Now is our defining moment, people. Will we look back on this moment and wish we'd done something more? Or will we step up?” Ja
ck said, looking around the room. “I'm going to help. My people will do everything they can. We already are, and we will continue to do so. We will worry about the bills when it is over.”
“Easy for you to say, you've got money, Jack,” Lynn sniffed in disdain.
Jack eyed her coldly. “It's not about the money. It's not even about doing what's right. It's about survival. We have got to go on the offensive. We have to get down there, root this thing out, and kill it. We can worry about the refugees and the survivors along the way, but they can't be our only concern,” he shot a brief apologetic look to Shantell, Doctor Phil Roberts, and Mia Sanjo. “I'm sorry, it's cold, but if we can't kill this virus, this isn't going to stop. It'll sit in someone's tablet or something, make its way up here, and then spread. We can't help anyone if we're all dead.”
Shantell hopefully understood triage. He was fairly certain Doctor Roberts and Mrs. Sanjo did. Both Roberts and Sanjo were in the medical profession; Roberts was head of Galaxy Labs while Sanjo was head of Healing Touch Pharmaceuticals. He didn't know them well, however; medicine hadn't been his side. He'd left that up to Aurelia.
“Like what almost happened to Axial-2,” Amin Nutel said with a nod. “And with the other stations. The indies who didn't listen or heed your warning.” Amin was the “new” CEO of Star Reach. Jack missed old Reg badly. Amin's Midwestern look with his black eyes reminded Jack so much of a circling shark. He couldn't help but be on edge around the man, especially since he knew some of the circumstances of Reg's assassination.
“Who let the virus in on Axial-2 to begin with? Gia? Why?”
“It's a long story,” Jack said.
“And of course you know it. Why am I not surprised.”
“Keep it brief, Jack,” the president said, taking a sip of her water before setting her glass down.
Jack eyed her then nodded slowly. “As you wish. Gia Synergy had been under contract to clean up polluted areas. They specialized in radioactive contamination. What we didn't know was that they were using nanites to do the clean up for them,” he said. There were gasps around the table.