by M. E. Thorne
“I’m starting to agree." She began walking back to the room. “I’m going to lay down again and try to sleep. Goodnight, Locke.”
We prepared to head out early the next day. I had managed to get in a few hours of sleep, but I still felt like crap. At least I didn’t wake up dry humping a rock or something.
Spare clothes were waiting for us, utilitarian jumpsuits. Spinny sheared off the bottom of one and then hemmed it so she could wear it as a shirt. She then helped Gloria trim and alter another for the bat-girl to wear.
“Sorry about the shirts you made us,” I said, changing my clothing.
The work shirt Spinny had created for me was ruined, little more than a pile of scrapped fabric. I decided to keep it just the same, tucking it into the backpack Marcella had provided.
“Don’t worry,” she answered with a smile. “It protected you when you needed it the most, so I’m happy.”
Sabra zipped up her outfit, apparently feeling much more comfortable in the jumpsuit than what she had been wearing under her hazmat suit. She tried on a couple of boots until she found a pair that fit her.
Gnasher violently tore the sleeves and legs off her clothing, much to Spinny’s chagrin.
“What?” the Jinx complained. “You know I get hot wearing long-sleeved stuff. Unlike you jerks, I got to deal with fur.”
As promised, Marcella met us in the main chamber. I was surprised to see she was wearing a pack and had switched her dress for a matching jumpsuit and a pair of boots.
“I’ve decided to come with you,” she announced.
“Not that we’re against the idea,” Spinny said, after some confusion, “but I thought the Panacea had decided to remove themselves from society.”
“My siblings and I discussed it last night,” she answered. Seeing our obvious agitation, she explained, “We commune during hibernation. After much debate, we have decided recent events merit our attention.”
“You mean Locke’s magical penis,” Gloria laughed.
I shot her an irritated look.
Spinny frowned, brow creased in thought. I remember our conversation, about the Arachne and their difficulties in reproduction, and her thoughts on bearing a child.
“Locke’s mutation, and the effect on his reproductive capabilities, were part of our conversation,” Marcella nodded, unfazed. “But the Syndicate’s activities and their attempts to steal from our creators are also very troubling. If they continue to recklessly destroy other parts of The Stacks, they could discover or damage one of our colonies.”
Sabra took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. “We need to stop Valash.”
“Agreed,” Marcella said, a bit of heat in her voice. She looked at the Syndicate woman, “We recognize that you are not responsible for his actions and we appreciate the position you have put yourself in by assisting us.”
Sabra was shocked. “Thank you,” she stuttered.
“We were also interested in your knowledge of the wider galaxy,” Marcella said. “There might be Panacea colonies on other Nakamura-Ghosi worlds. A possibility we never took the time to consider before.”
She turned to face Sabra. “We would appreciate working with you specifically, and not the SADB or the Syndicate as a whole, in this endeavor. In return, we would offer our assistance in analyzing the changes to Locke and how it might be applied to your birth-rate issues.”
Sabra mutely considered the staggering implications behind this offer, her eyes going wide.
Marcella turned to me. “Is this acceptable to you, Locke?”
“Provided you can keep me from mutating into some kind of flesh-lump monster,” I ran a hand through my hair, feeling apprehensive. “And we can use the knowledge gained to help everyone, including El Finito, I’m okay with it.”
“Good,” Marcella nodded, apparently satisfied.
She reached into her bag and pulled out two vials that both contained vivid, blue liquid, which she handed to Gnasher and Gloria.
“What’s this?” Gnasher swirling the vial’s contents.
“A birth-control formula my colony developed, based on the analysis of Locke’s semen,” she answered. “We assumed you are both interested in continuing your sexual relationships with Locke, so it seemed prudent to come up with a countermeasure. I have already dosed myself in case we decide to copulate again. It needs to be taken weekly.”
Gnasher and Gloria shared a look before they both drank the vials.
“With everything going on, I don’t think now is the time to have a child,” Gnasher said. She reached out and hugged Spinny. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Spinny answered, stroking her hair. “I never intended to ask you to carry that weight. If we decide to have a child, we’ll do it together, and at a more appropriate time.”
“Yeah, I don’t have time to have a kid,” Gloria gave Gnasher a fond hair tousle. “I still want to open my own business, start a career, become a mover and a shaker on this planet.”
“What kind of business,” I asked skeptically.
“An illegal one,” she answered without even a trace of guilt. “Maybe smuggling?”
The elevator ride proved to be a bone-rattling, nerve-wracking affair.
After some deliberation, we decided to all ride up together, since our combined weight was lower than the posted limit, and we were afraid the old thing would only survive one trip.
“I can stay behind,” Spinny said. “If the elevator fails, I can always follow up on my own." She flexed the two stubby legs she was still regrowing. “I think I’m already good to climb.”
“Nobody is being left behind,” Gnasher told her stubbornly.
We ended up cramming ourselves into the elevator car. Spinny and Gloria hung from the ceiling while the rest of us sat on the floor. Once we were all ready, I reached outside to cross the wires.
“Hold onto your butts,” Gloria cheerfully said.
“Maybe I should make everyone some crash restraints?” Spinny mumbled.
Nobody got in another word. As soon as the circuit was completed, the elevator car shot up the shaft. I barely got my hand back inside the car in time.
We rocketed upwards. Marcella seemed indifferent. Gnasher and Gloria yelled in excitement, the rest of us in terror.
I could hear bits of metal, nuts, and bolts, hitting against the shaft’s sides as they fell. A huge gash opened in one of the car’s walls, the sheet metal catching on an exposed beam. The car shuddered and careened back and forth. We were sent rolling like marbles.
I had no idea how fast we were going, but I did some panic-induced math and estimated we’d rocketed up several kilometers.
With an ear-splitting crash, the car collided with the top of the shaft. A shower of burnt metal and sparks flew out into the air.
“Out, everyone out!” Gnasher yelled as she shepherded all of us through the narrow opening. She practically threw me out after Sabra.
Spinny had barely cleared the exit when the whole car plunged down the shaft with another horrifying, metallic screech. I think we all held our breath until we heard it hit the bottom.
“I hope that noise does not wake up any of my siblings,” Marcella said in an emotionless manner. Unlike the rest of us, she wasn’t a trembling mess.
Using my lantern, I illuminated the room around us. “Where the hell are we?”
“Some kind of corporate facility,” Sabra straightened her clothes and fixed her hair. “Can you shine your light here?”
We appeared to be in some kind of prep room or lobby, with lockers and benches scattered around. Sabra was pointing to a cork-board hanging near the elevator, where posters and placards were taped or tacked up.
Most of them appeared to be about safety regulations and workplace compliance. One poster depicted a depressed-looking cat sitting at a desk, the word Monday? floating over its head.
Sabra carefully looked over all the material before declaring, “We’re in a Honormark facility. If I remember correctly, they control
led a large swath of territory north of the Metrocomplex.”
I looked at the posters, utterly befuddled. “How can you tell?”
She pointed towards a poster that was covered by a huge block of text. “These safety regulations were unique to Honormark. Additionally, these other postings contain legalese only found in documentations recovered from their facilities.”
“Wow, having a historian around is useful,” Gloria said, looking at the cork-board.
Sabra offered her a small grin.
“So let’s head south,” Gnasher directed. “Hopefully we’ll recognize the terrain or find something that matches the Bluehorns’ map.”
The Honormark facility appeared almost identical to the Nakamura-Ghosi one. Huge hallways with white concrete walls and white tiled floors. Only the imagery, a logo composed of blue stars and comets, and the overwhelming amount of safety warnings and posted regulations were truly different.
That and no cleaning robots or giant flesh-lumps, I thought.
The floors were covered in thin-layers of dust, and cobwebs lurked in the corners. Burned-out lights lined the ceiling. The occasional, skeletal corpse could be found tucked against the walls or huddled together in groups. The side rooms were full of junk, mostly paperwork, boxes, and expired cleaning supplies.
“What’s with all the posters and signs?” Gnasher had seen another motivational picture, a cat hanging desperately onto a tree branch, and had shredded it with her claws.
“Honormark viewed itself as a bastion of law and order,” Sabra explained as she stopped to read a group of warnings stenciled on the wall. “They were very big on rules, regulations, and workplace safety.”
“Law and order? You said they launched a sneak attack and bombed the crap out of one of their rivals,” Gloria countered.
“Which just proves they’re hypocrites,” Spinny said darkly. “Despite their professional veneer, they were simply greedy, amoral thugs and murderers.”
“That is why I study them,” Sabra stopped at a hallway intersection. “Corporations were composed of people, despite their monolithic and godlike nature. We’re just as likely today to make the same mistakes as they did back then.”
“Like the Syndicate,” I added without thinking.
Sabra looked stricken, but she didn’t argue further. Instead, she consulted briefly with Gnasher, who led us further into the ruins.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay,” Sabra said.
We were taking a short rest in what appeared to be a breakroom. Cheap, plastic chairs, motivational posters, and broken vending machines were everywhere. Gloria was furiously attacking one of the food dispensers while Marcella watched her with her clinically detached attitude. Spinny and Gnasher had co-opted one of the tables and were going over the map.
I had helped them for a few minutes but then saw Sabra was huddled in one of the chairs in the far corner of the room. Thinking of my rude comment, I went over to apologize.
“It was still mean and thoughtless,” I said. “I know things aren’t easy for you right now, there’s no need for me to add to your problems.”
She shook her head. “I appreciate it. But the thing is, you’re not wrong, and I know it. There are fundamental, systemic problems with the Syndicate, and the SADB. What happened to Ning, Valash’s belligerence, even our obsession with creating perfect children, they’re all just symptoms of larger problems.”
Gloria managed to rip the front of one of the machines off, the metal and plastic tearing and snapping. She triumphantly began to sort through the bags of food that fell out.
“Hybrids are much stronger than baseline humans,” I explained as Sabra stared in shock. “I’m probably the physically weakest person here since I’m so close to baseline.”
Using her wings as a basket, Gloria carried her treasure trove over to the table Spinny and Gnasher were using and then began sorting through her loot.
I sighed and got up. “I better go help her before we all get food poisoning." I gave her a reassuring smile. “Let me know if you want to talk, I’m always happy to listen.”
Joining Gnasher, I helped Gloria go through the pile of sealed food. “Don’t even bother looking at expiration dates,” I said, tossing a cellophane bag into the discard pile. “Everything is going to be a century out of date. Instead, check the ingredients list for cornstarch, white rice, syrup, and honey.”
“Basically anything sweet and bad for you,” Gnasher contributed.
“The wonderful things you learn as a delver,” Spinny chuckled.
“Laugh all you want,” I intoned, “but I remember the time Gnasher and I got lost in The Stacks for a week. We had been exploring a shopping mall when the floor collapsed and we ended up stuck in a warehouse. We survived on nothing but snack cakes and honey bars until we found a way back up.”
Gnasher closed her eyes as if bringing up fond memories. “We ate like kings.”
“And your breath smelled like a candy-factory for a month,” Spinny reminded Gnasher, kissing her on the forehead.
Sabra had come over during our discussion, cautiously sitting at the edge of our group. She kept her face downcast, focusing on her hands twisting in her lap.
I waved for her to sit closer, and pointed out an open spot next to Gloria. She was hesitant to join us at first, but soon the three of us were sifting through the vending machine packages together.
We were going at a steady pace when the sound of ripping plastic broke our rhythm. Looking over, we all gasped in shock as Marcella tore open one of the packages in the discard pile and popped a shriveled, brown lump into her mouth. She thoughtfully chewed and swallowed.
“I wanted to analyze its chemical composition,” she explained upon seeing our slack expressions. “Don’t worry, I’ve already begun producing countermeasures for toxic or indigestible material.”
“Just make sure you brush your teeth later,” Gnasher suggested. “Locke is a real nitpicker about that.”
I was about to make a smart-ass retort when Gloria and Gnasher suddenly silenced everyone and turned off our lights. We sat in the dark until we all heard the footfalls echoing in the distance.
Chapter 14
Gnasher volunteered to go scouting while the rest of us hid in the dark corners of the breakroom.
“Hide the footprints we left in the dust if you can,” I suggested as she began to prowl out the door. I passed her a broom I had retrieved from a stack of cleaning supplies.
“If you run into anyone, you can break the handle over their heads,” Gloria added unhelpfully.
Gnasher gave us a sharp smile, her eyes flashing in the gloom, before taking off.
“How can you people see anything?” Sabra complained. Spinny reached over and pulled her against the wall after the Syndicate woman almost tripped over a chair.
“Night vision,” I quietly explained. “Even I can see better in the dark than any baseline human.”
“Echolocation,” Gloria added, fluttering one of her ears.
“Tremor-sense." Spinny tapped a leg against the floor. “It works best when I’m inside one of my webs, but I can still detect vibration and movement in everyday settings.”