by RS McCoy
“Can you hear me?” Mable asked in his ear.
“Yeah, I’m getting your vid feed. All set on this end. Take a left at the next intersection, then the pharma complex is on the right.”
“Yeah, got it.”
Her rudeness, her insistence on being short and condescending in that moment sealed their fate. Theo was certain he couldn’t continue on with her.
He knew what he had to do.
AIDA
LRF-PS-101
AUGUST 22, 2232
Perkins-196 floated in the space above her desk. Aida’s eyes stared, glazed over as she gave in to the daze.
Could this really be it?
Or, more prevalently, had Dr. Parr really died on the verge of this discovery?
As more and more data arrived over the last three days, the three Planetary Systems researchers had spent every available moment in calculations, scans, and projections. They had yet to find a flaw.
Atmospheric tests showed a volume of thirty two percent oxygen, vastly higher than the eighteen percent produced by the atmosphere converters in the last two hundred years. It was higher than the twenty one percent before the war.
Aside from the oxygen content, there was a high quantity of available nitrogen and carbon dioxide that allowed for photosynthesis and cellular respiration. There were no signs of hydrogen sulfide, carbon monoxide, or any other substance that would be toxic to breath in high concentrations.
They couldn’t have asked for better.
Any colonists on Perkins-196 would be treated to the best air of their lives.
Aida was still lost in admiration and guilt when Calvin appeared out of nowhere. “I just sent you the preliminary biological analysis. There’s considerable flora and fauna present already.”
She snapped out of it as fast as she could and started the motions on her tablet to bring up the data.
“What’s wrong?” Calvin sat in the only available chair. His brow wrinkled and his emerald eyes were soft.
“Nothing.” She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had bothered to ask about her.
“You know, you’re not a very good liar.” His smile consumed her.
“I’m just tired,” she admitted, though she didn’t go so far as to tell him she hadn’t been able to sleep for weeks, not since—
“Why don’t you take the afternoon off? We’ve made plenty of headway so far. Even Niemeyer is on board. You deserve a break.”
“No, no, I’m fine.” On the holographic projector, images of the planet’s surface appeared. Rather than the lush green jungles she’d pictured, she saw only purple. A plum plant-like thing with a narrow stem with a lush lavender poof on the end, so delicate it looked like sugar. Beside it was a crimson bush with leaves perfectly straight and pointed, like an explosion in progress. Tree-like things had trunks so dark they were almost black, but the leaves, though small and light like the seeds of a dandelion, were so many colors: rose, pink, and magenta.
“This is amazing,” she said, though it came out quiet.
“I thought you’d like it. But seriously, I think you should take a few hours off.”
Aida shot him a cocked eyebrow. “Well, thanks to you, I’m the Lead, and I don’t have to listen to you.”
“You’re no good to us if you get burnt out. Go home. I insist.”
While Aida usually enjoyed Calvin’s company, this time, he only managed to irritate her. She clenched her teeth and glared.
“Tomorrow, you’ll be rested and fresh and we can look at the bio specs.” Calvin smiled in a way she hadn’t seen before. It was pained for some reason.
Aida sat in her chair and thought about that. About the planet she found that still seemed so right. About her junior researcher who smiled like that.
She didn’t know how long she sat dazed at her desk. By the time she came to, her tablet was dark and Calvin was gone. Aida wondered if she’d been rude and made him leave. It wasn’t like her to daydream that way. She rubbed her eyes and tried to think of what she was doing.
Then she remembered, Calvin told her to go home.
Why she listened to him, she didn’t really know. Maybe it was those green eyes that haunted her, or maybe she was really tired. Or maybe she wanted to get away from her office and think about something else.
But she hadn’t expected Sal to be home. He looked surprised to see her as well.
“I thought you’d be working late again,” he said.
She walked past him at the small metal dinette and sat on the edge of the bed to remove her heels. “Calvin wanted me to take the afternoon off.”
With his eyes on his tablet, he asked, “Calvin?”
Aida realized her mistake and corrected, “Dr. Hill.” She didn’t know when she’d started to think of him as Calvin.
“Oh.” Sal didn’t appear concerned in the least. And he didn’t have a reason to be concerned.
“I told you Director Filmore made me Lead?” She knew very well she hadn’t told him, but it was as good a time as any. Despite the circumstances, there was a certain measure of pride in attaining a Lead position so early in her career.
She didn’t mention Calvin’s hand in every step of the process, but in the end, the director had agreed to her new position.
“That’s great.” His eyes never left his tablet.
“With your promotion last year, we should have enough to apply for a Child Permit.” She held her breath and waited for his response.
“Maybe in a year or two.”
“You’re right.” She kept her voice even to hide the depth of the wound. She already knew the answer to that question. It hurt her more than she thought it should.
Aida grabbed her tablet from where she’d tossed it on the bed and began reading through the news. A list of tomorrow’s provision flavors. A simulation of interplanetary fuel consumption from the Propulsions unit. Astrobiology had a vid of a new plant that could grow without water, as long as it was kept in a humid environment.
She couldn’t find a single interesting article. Her own research was far more dynamic than anything else that popped up on the LRF feed.
Three hours later, she gave up. She pushed her feet back into her heels and returned to her office. She didn’t have anything to do at her apartment except sit in silence with Sal, and she’d had as much of that as she could handle for the day.
It was late enough the others had probably already returned to their own apartments, but she didn’t mind. She enjoyed the solitude.
Her mind went to the plants on Perkins-196. She pulled up the images of the violet organisms and looked them over again. So striking, so vibrant in color, she found herself drawn to their appearance, to their very existence.
She heard a knock that scared her straight out of her chair. Calvin stood in the open doorway, his knuckles hovering inches from the metal. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I saw you left the light on. I thought you were supposed to go home.”
“I did. I came back.” She didn’t want to explain why she was more comfortable at work than at home.
“Plan on staying for a while?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“Mind if I join you?”
“I’ll be fine, thank you anyway.”
“If it’s all the same, I’ll stay. You look like you could use some company.” Aida couldn’t decide what she wanted. Sitting in silence with Sal had been enough to drive her from the apartment, but she didn’t want to talk to Calvin about that.
Filling the silence, Calvin reached into his pocket and handed her a container. “Would you like some strawberries?”
In shock, Aida accepted the box and opened it to reveal the bright red berries inside.
Calvin sat in the chair opposite her desk before she could protest. “Have you ever had them before?” When she shook her head, he continued, “Their sweet and juicy. You could almost east them for dessert.”
“Dessert?”
A smile tugged at his lips. “I’ll sho
w you one day. For now, how about your planet? These images are amazing.”
“Stunning,” she admitted. “What about wildlife?”
“So far, there’s no sign of anything larger than a house cat. Mostly primitive species, similar to our insects and fish. Nothing of the higher orders of vertebrates. That’s good, right?” He leaned in to get a closer view.
Aida relished talk of planets again. “It depends. Larger native species can be predators that threaten the colonists, but others can be a food source. It’s really case specific, dependent on the available resources and the established ecosystem.”
“The probe should be close enough to get samples here in the next day or two. We’ll be able to determine the chemical composition of these plants, if they’re edible or toxic.”
“Or if they have a defense mechanism.”
“I take it that’s happened before?” Calvin propped his chin on his fist and waited to hear the story.
“Perkins-41. The local plant-life had edible leaves, high in fiber and nutrients, a really great resource. But when they harvested the leaves, the plant would shoot an acid out the top of the stem. Even brushing against it would cause some of the smaller ones to extrude the acid.”
“Sounds like it could be managed with the right precautions.”
“We thought so, too, so Dr. Parr instructed us to move forward with a base level colony on the surface. The colonists struggled to carve out a preliminary campsite or grow any foods that weren’t killed by the native plants. Two months later, it was decided that the species was too aggressive. Our choice was between wiping out the entire surface vegetation or continue looking for other planets.”
“And Dr. Parr chose to move on.”
She remembered it as if it had been only days, rather than years ago. “Yes, he did.”
“Do you think that was the right choice?”
“Of course. We discussed it for weeks. He was always very considerate. He thought of every angle to a problem. That’s why he was so good.”
“You’re like that, too, you know.”
“No, I’m not. I wish I was, but I’m not.”
Calvin stood and walked around the desk to squat beside her. He took her hands between both of his and said, “Aida, you are exactly like he was. You think about things in a way most Scholars couldn’t dream.” When he stood again, he pulled her up with him.
Her heart raced like never before. He was so close, he held her hands with such care, she couldn’t even think of what to do.
“Look at you. Always dressed exquisitely. You care about appearances even when you think no one notices. Even your husband, he doesn’t notice, does he?”
“What are you getting at?” She didn’t like this turn, didn’t like his tone. His comments hit far too close to home.
“I mean that you are something special. You are exactly what we need to find the right planet. We don’t have Dr. Parr here with us anymore, but we have you, and that’s more than enough.”
It was then he leaned in and kissed her. A real kiss, one that stole her breath and left her knees weak. He pressed one hand to her cheek. The other pulled at the small of her back. Her whole body against his.
Aida knew she would regret it. She would hate herself for it, but she nonetheless gave in to him. Her arms wrapped around his neck. She pushed up onto her toes as much as her shoes would allow.
When he leaned her onto the desk and tugged at the zipper of her body suit, she knew the line had been crossed.
But never, for even one second, did she consider stopping him.
MABLE
TORONTO INSTITUTE OF PHARMACEUTICAL EVALUATION, TORONTO, NORTH AMERICA
AUGUST 22, 2232
The weight of the two bags and the constant, sharp pain on the left side of her head made her tired and irritated. The prospect of seeing a real, live bug in person gave her the motivation to keep going.
The pharmaceutical complex rose into the sky like the blade of a knife. The windows shimmered charcoal grey and cobalt where they reflected the early morning light. It was one of the tallest buildings in the city. Had it been less centralized, the top would have punctured the dome.
Mable walked until the blade was right above her. In its shadow, the air was cooler.
Inside, the pharmaceutical building was cold and sterile, as all Scholar labs were. A chill rolled up her arms. Too-bright lights shone from square panels on the ceiling. Stark white walls matched the tile floors without a speck of dirt or debris.
Mable hated places like this.
From the lobby, Mable could see the knife-shaped building was a hollow one. From the ground floor, she could look up and see a wrap-around balcony at each of the forty levels.
A Craftsman woman stood guard at a large desk that hid everything below the tops of her shoulders. “Please scan your hand below.”
On the screen, her handprint produced the message: WELCOME TO TIPE, MS. CRISTOPHSEN. A moment later, it flashed to: PLEASE PROCEED TO TIPE-314.
The woman ignored her as she walked to the elevator on the far side of the lobby.
“Third floor, take the right fork, then the third office on the right side. Dr. Divya Prataban.” She could hear Theo, though not through her ears. Somehow the cam had a more direct connection. From the holes it dug in her skin, Mable didn’t want to know how it worked. She adjusted her hair to fall over the device in case she should pass anyone in the corridor.
She followed Theo’s directions and tried to quiet the pain and apprehension. She needed to focus on the task at hand. From the equipment bag, she pulled the gas canister and let her finger hover over the blue button. She took a good breath and steeled her nerves.
Then she pushed into the office.
The Scholar woman sat at a small metal desk with rows of jars and vials occupying the left side. She had chocolate skin and jet black hair smoothed into a tight bun. Full, candy apple lips pressed together with concentration. Her eyes were on the data streaming across her holographic tablet display, something about anth toxicity levels.
She didn’t see Mable until she was only a few feet away.
“Good morning,” she said with a start. “You must be Ms. Cristophsen. I’m Dr. Prataban. Welcome to the Drug Design Unit.” Dr. Prataban held out her hand with a curt smile and Mable accepted.
“Thank you for having me, Dr. Prataban. I understand you have a big event tonight.” Mable batted her eyes and flashed a warm smile.
Dr. Prataban was disarmed instantly. “Yes, I will present my newest research to the Sector Leader, Dr. Braun, as well as the Dean of Toronto and several prestigious directors. With their approval, we’ll start development of our latest effort.” Her eyes flashed with excitement.
Mable saw how she would do it. “What is the focus of your research?”
“My department has spent the last four years designing a drug we call Anthezine. It has properties that result in the neutralization of anth in the nervous sys—”
And then it happened.
Dr. Prataban looked to her tablet to pull up something. It was a moment of distraction just long enough.
Mable held out the canister and ejected a cloud of blue gas, but the woman struck out at the last moment. Mable inhaled and tasted the sweetness of it, little more than an aftertaste. Dr. Prataban choked on the gas and collapsed against her cold metal desk. Not a full dose, but enough to do the trick.
She’d seen the vids so many times, Mable knew what to do. But doing it in person was a different event entirely. As if she watched from outside herself, she pulled the gloves from her bag and slipped them on. Then she unscrewed the jar of golden liquid and placed it beside the woman’s head. The smell burned her nostrils.
Last, the clamp. Mable paused before she forced open the woman’s mouth. Her genetically engineered features lay lifeless and ugly.
Mable’s eyes focused at the back of her throat, but there was nothing, at least nothing she could see. She fished a flashlight from the bag, no larger th
an her thumb.
Still the throat was empty.
“Theo, I don’t see it.”
Maybe it was another species. With rough and quick motions, Mable turned the woman’s head and shone the light into her right ear. Again, nothing. Then the left.
Nothing.
Lacking any shred of grace, Mable pried open the woman’s hazel eye. She was beyond relieved she had followed Arrenstein’s advice and put on the gloves. Searching around someone’s eye was a whole other level of revolting.
Mable used the clamp to pop the eye clear out of the socket. It hung across her cheek attached only by the optic nerve. There was no Gleam either. Balancing speed with care, she pushed the eye back into the orbit and moved on to the other.
By then, the Scholar started to come to. Her eyes flittered open and her chest heaved with irregular, desperate breaths.
Fuck.
Mable slammed her elbow into the woman’s temple. It would definitely leave a bruise, but it was better than blowing her cover on the first job.
The next generation of recon teams would watch this video as one of the ‘how not to do it’ examples, her sloppiness glorified for all time.
Satisfied the woman was out again, she popped out the second eye, and still, no bug.
There was only one place to look.
It took considerable effort to turn the Scholar woman enough to access the back of her neck. She had no idea how to tell if there was a bug, a Slight, hiding between the tissue layers.
“Theo, how do I tell if there’s a Slight?” She couldn’t remember. Her thoughts were scattered from the pain and the gas and the stress. Mable needed help.
But there was no answer.
When had he stopped responding? She couldn’t recall.
“Theo!” she yelled with as much volume as she dared.
Still silence.
Mable was no quitter, but there was nothing she could do. Short of cutting into the woman’s flesh in search of a bug that might not even be there, Mable was helpless.
A piercing whine filled the air, so loud and horrible Mable threw her gloved hands against her ears to soften the pain. Damn, it was awful. A screeching, disgusting noise like nothing she’d ever heard.