Josie kept watching, but her tone grew more serious. “Thing’s got thick skin.”
Martin nodded, distractedly, still staring at his numbers. He hated that he began to prefer being alone, and he fought that urge as best he could. All things considered, he found her to be quite welcome practice. “Well, plasma is heat and liquid-based,” he mused. “Their skin is resistant to heat and cold.”
Her eyebrows perked up and she finished sipping her tea before speaking. “The things that survived the apocalypse? Yeah, I bet.” They smiled again, and Martin finally took the time to glance at her. While he had a hard time looking at her face, he did notice some things: her athletic thighs, the curve of her hips against her agile frame, and the delicate way her scarred hands held the mug. Without the rough and tumble attitude, she was quite attractive in her own way.
His face softened as doubts raced through his mind. “Listen,” he started, and she allowed him the time to gather his thoughts. “What you all did for me, I don’t deserve it.”
Josie shrugged, recalling her own less than noble history. She tried to respond in words she would understand, had the roles been reversed. “Maybe not, but we get paid either way.” Her thoughts drifted back to her old drill sergeant who told her she didn’t deserve food, that she didn’t deserve sleep. Those things were luxuries, and luxuries were earned. She’d come a long way, but still carried the harshness of those times in her eyes, her face, and her smile.
Martin paused, realizing this was the first time on the entire expedition that someone had spoken to him like he was a person, not just a scientist. “Can I ask you a question?” She didn’t move, didn’t give any sign of approval, and certainly didn’t extend any form of personal affection for the man to warrant something like that. But he continued anyway. “The colony on Maxia, is it still there?”
She was grateful the question wasn’t as personal as he originally implied. She raised an eyebrow. “The Wraith moon?” He nodded, and it felt like an eternity before she answered. “Yeah, they didn’t get hit.”
Martin’s relief forced him to sit. His eyes watered and a smile crossed his face, though a fist covered it. “Ah, I’m sorry.” He took a moment to collect himself, waving at her in apology. “I was certain it was gone.” He wiped his eyes, despite crying more. “Certain that the Heruleans wouldn’t keep their word.” The humming from the machine stopped; a bell signaled to the doctor that the piece of flesh was ready to be removed.
Not being very good with sensitive topics or emotions, the lieutenant tried to lighten the mood. “I swear we had something just like that to cook with at home.” It worked. Martin smirked again, standing and walking over to the machine, wiping his eyes once more.
Once he was ready, he opened the machine, took the flesh back to the slab, sat next to the mercenary, and opened his tablet. He seemed almost disappointed. “Well, that can’t be right,” he said, swiping through multiple screens to confirm the readings.
All this science nonsense had finally caught Josie’s attention. She leaned forward, glancing at the tablet. The program dated the flesh at a mere four weeks old. If that was the case, these things would have been born shortly before the distress call from the stations. Martin shook his head at the thought, blinking as his mind raced.
“Maybe we bagged a young one?” Josie inquired.
“At this size?” He slapped the specimen with the back of his handAs he stared at the creature, the man’s mind ran away like a train. His facial expressions changed just as quickly. “This means—this could mean—” When he finally landed on a single thought, a tiny island of a conclusion, upon which the train of thought came crashing down, he blinked in disbelief. “No, that’s not poss—” He stopped himself. “Not proba—” He froze once more. “Well, it’s not fucking likely.” He stood up, panicked. His tablet fell from his lap before Josie grabbed it and secured it on the table. He pointed to her several times before giving her an order. “Wake everyone up.”
“What?”
“Wake them up right now!”
After much argument and fuss, everyone was standing in the laboratory, red-eyed and confused, all in pajamas save for Ox, who wore only his loincloth. The rescued inhabitants of Research Station Three, like its counterparts, consisted of two doctors and an assistant. Doctor Aldo, Doctor Wayland, and [the somehow forgettable, despite there only being two other people in the building they all shared for some time] Reggie.
They weren’t used to whatever shenanigans occurred in this station, but Doctor Aldo had made it clear to Josie that if this sort of behavior continued, he would be heading back to his old building. Josie laughed and wished him luck before she ran to wake the others.
Martin didn’t wait for everyone, and he began speaking once Gally showed up. She always seemed to have a stern, business-like attitude; it was like a switch she could turn on at any moment. The doctor met eyes with her before he started. “I don’t know how to say this. And I don’t want it to sound like I’m bragging.” He looked around as others slowly meandered in; it was like teaching a college course. “But, as some of you know, we did some tests on this—thing.” He looked down at the carcass, thinking someone should probably name it. “And its stomach contents are—” he paused, trying to think of a word, “—indiscriminate.”
Nitro furrowed an eyebrow. “The fuck does that mean?”
Doctor Howlette leaned in and quietly tried to explain the literal definition of the word.
“No!” Insulted, the captain interrupted the doctor’s explanation by slapping him on the arm. “I meant what did he mean by—”
Martin interrupted to clarify, lifting his hands to ease the tension. “I mean they eat everything.” There was some silence. The scientists, though still fascinated with the material, were hearing old news, and their faces reflected that. “That’s why we couldn’t find Station Four; they ate it.” He pointed in the direction of the former station. Suddenly realizing the lack of enthusiasm or interest in the crowd, Martin’s pointing arm dropped. He’d given a lot of lectures in his day, talked about a lot of hypotheses that weren’t always sound. But this one, he surmised as he looked in the eyes of his audience, would make him sound mad. Once the thought occurred to him, he humbled himself, cleared his throat; his insistent and urgent face settled to embarrassment.
The others murmured at this thought. Even Ox looked concerned. But Boomer shrugged. “I don’t get it,” he said. “What’s so bad about that?”
Lee fielded this question, rubbing an eye with a fist. “The last known species with an indiscriminate diet was the Anaphy,” he stated. The demolition expert’s hands still stuck out, palms up, clear that he didn’t understand the implication. Lee continued, risking his own slap on the arm. “Alpha Six?”
Boomer pondered for a moment. “Those locust fuckers?”
Ox nodded with half-closed eyes, trying to be patient. “They were the dominant species on Alpha Six for some time.”
“Yeah, that happens when you eat literally everything,” Lee grumbled.
Ox nodded and continued, as if confirming rumors he’d heard. “They started eating the planet itself.”
Lee interjected once more. “It threw off the gravitational pull, and a few moons fell out of orbit.”
Martin nodded, annoyed that he’d almost lost his train of thought. He waved his hand in a circular motion and looked at the ceiling. “Yeah, the devastation was incalculable, and the ecosystem suffered a great deal. That’s the point I’m getting at.” He pointed at Ox, hoping the interruptions were over. “The Anaphy were tiny. Alpha Six took decades, maybe centuries for all anyone knows.” He gestured toward the slab. “The creatures seem to consume at a much higher rate.”
Mitch raised his hand, realizing nothing contained in the current lecture was particularly good or new news. “So, how would it sound like you’re bragging?” he asked, hesitantly.
Martin looked up, finally getting to the point. “Because—and I sincerely hope I’m wrong her
e—I think these things are a result of the Carbonic Mutator.”
Harper frowned. Even without a scientific background, he knew Martin was basically implying he had created life. There was a silence. Out of the sea of shocked faces, Martin’s eyes landed upon Gally. She looked oddly calm and dignified, as if she were simply watching the doctor connect the dots. “You knew,” Martin said with a tone that was both a realization and an accusation.
She shrugged in her business-as-usual manner. “It was one of many possibilities, but yes, we prepared for it,” she conceded. “We knew the planet would change; it’s why we had the research stations out here. We assumed new life would form, and after the distress call, we knew it was hostile.”
Doctor Collier nodded, slowly realizing why he was rescued. “And you think I just wipe planets clean in my spare time, is that it?”
Gally blinked, holding her own, not missing a beat in what was growing into an argument. “We can’t all enjoy our jobs, doctor.” It was a crass jab, but she didn’t regret it. Gally had grown up in a military family, holding office or government jobs her whole life. She felt that the truth, sometimes, needed to be said.
Martin had also worked for the Human Government most of his life, but his work—more specifically, his results—devastated him. His response was more of a growl, more of a stab back at the woman. “Where’s this damn army you government types are all so proud of?”
Gally’s eyebrows tented, her head swayed. “Do you have any idea how much paperwork is involved in that? How much time that would cost us?” Her voice was raised, but not shouting.
Nitro shrugged and nodded, chiming in. “She’s actually right, doc. It’s kind of a bitch from what I’ve heard.”
Gally looked at the captain, who pursed his lips in response. Of all the people to come to her defense, he seemed the most unlikely. “That’s right.” The words came slowly at first, and she had trouble putting her focus back on Martin who shook his head, stepping back.
“I won’t do it.” His voice cracked, suddenly wishing he was back in his cell. “You think I’m some goddamn monster?” He stepped backward and plopped back down on the bench near the creature. “You think I enjoy this?! We were in a fucking war!” He threw one of his hands to the side, pointing at nothing.
Silence filled the room before Ox interjected calmly: “There must be other options.”
Words fell from Harper’s lips like rain off a statue. “Government emergency procedures.” He pulled the thoughts from the back of his mind. “When I was in the service, we were brought in because a government agent brought in proof of an emergency situation.”
Gally nodded, rubbing her eyes, trying to calm down. “Well then, can we prove these theories of yours, Doctor Collier?” She said it with respect, as if speaking to an entirely different person than earlier.
Martin froze as his mind raced. He looked at the body of the first specimen and frowned. He hated this; he hated the war, and hated his reputation. But he found solace in the result of the conversation—namely, he wouldn’t be the one to wipe out these creatures—and his voice reflected a glum resolution. “I would need another body or two. To prove it wasn’t just a fluke.”
Nitro grinned and clapped Gally on the shoulder. “And I can get you a great price on people who can provide you with that,” he chimed as she looked at him, trying very hard not to roll her eyes.
5
There’s this feeling that you get, when you’ve devoted your whole life to something—like athletes or, in my case, scientists.
To put it simply, nothing really surprises you in your field.
The most infuriating part about working with Martin Collier is that he proves that theory wrong.
You never know as little as when you work with that man.
He is impossibly brilliant. He would see things well before we would, and of course he’d never tell us.
Which, fine, you form a theory and want us to prove you wrong. That’s how science works.
But to work with him, it felt like the job we were hired for was a side project for him: some banal curiosity to pass the time.
And he’d get the work done well before we would, but he wouldn’t tell us. He’d wait for us to finish and then we’d compare notes. And he was right, every time. Every time.
Even then, we all called him an egotist: thinking he was too good for the bullshit jobs that every scientist has to take. But, looking back on it, I don’t see it like that anymore.
Because he could’ve just turned in his work, months ahead of time, and then we’d be out of a job. He didn’t need us, and him being there meant the company didn’t need us either. Looking back on it, I think he knew that, and was just trying to keep us employed.
And I try to go easy on him, because…
To be brilliant, to be that brilliant, it must’ve been incredibly lonely.
Dr. L. Aegis, Saga Corporation
Exit Interview
November 8, 2302
Sabile:
Research Station 2
Harper couldn’t sleep that night; something persistent pulled at the back of his mind. He couldn’t escape the feeling that he was not the right man for this job anymore, that the galaxy-ending ramification of these hungry gents seemed more and more out of his area of expertise. Sure, the job paid well, but he was no galaxy-saver. Even during his time in the military, the closest thing to heroics he’d ever done was delivering organs to hospitals. Frankly, he considered himself underqualified, even if it was still technically a delivery run.
So he did what he always did when he couldn’t sleep: he tinkered. In the large landing bay of the research station, he carried a can of fuel to the Atticus and poured it in.
Against the gentle glugging of the fuel, a voice caught his attention. “Thought I’d find you here,” Gally nearly called out to him; her voice echoed so much that she didn’t have to speak very loudly.
He looked back, but only for a moment: he didn’t want her to see how happy he was to have company. And while his eyes were fixed on the fuel container, his mind, grateful for the change of pace, leapt to her as she reached the ship. They’d both changed out of their pajamas, and both pretended not to notice the other’s commitment to staying awake when they should be resting. She leaned on the hull and seemed content just watching him. They met eyes only once during refueling, and he noticed she also looked concerned.
Once the can was emptied, Gally watched Harper place it on the ground next to him and open the bay doors. He gestured for her to follow him, and she did. She noticed he avoided stepping in the spots that looked recently cleaned, and she tried to do the same. As she did so, she noticed the long trail where her vomit had been; she paused, unsure whether to thank him or apologize. The long, liquid-shaped spot smelled like chemicals, and the scrubbed-clean look made it stand out from the rest of the area.
Gally glanced up, noticing that he hadn’t said a word to her about cleaning it up. She didn’t see him do it, nor did she even see the cleaning supplies. The proof of her shame and inexperience had vanished as quickly as it had been made. And he’d made sure of that. Her eyes, appreciative and quiet, followed him as he walked further into the ship.
Harper, however, hadn’t noticed. He was still examining the speaker that had been blown to pieces, trying not to dwell on the irony of only just having the media player fixed. After scratching his scalp and staring for some time, he let out a disappointed groan. Gally couldn’t help but laugh. The pilot dropped his hands to his waist, having found absolutely none of the specific parts required to fix such a thing. So, he continued on and reached the cockpit.
He grabbed a dust-rag and wiped down the less-used controls before sitting down. His lip twisted in dissatisfaction at how little there was to do. Gally sat next to him, in the co-pilot’s chair, and looked out at the vast metal wall in front of them.
He looked to her, his mouth hanging open before he chose his words. Frankly, he couldn’t choose them at all. They all f
elt equally important, though they sat in his chest and refused to move. When she looked back at him, he closed his mouth, but returned her glance. It was nice to see her depart from her work personality. All the red tape and bluster vanished from her, and her demeanor seemed carefree. But when he’d finally looked her in the eyes, Harper could see the hurricane wanting to be set loose. He felt awful for it, which was one of the many things he’d meant to say.
In what felt like an abrupt change of thought, he watched her point to his left. “Whose ring is that?” Gally pointed to a long, black necklace that wrapped around a gold wedding band. Hung off one of the less-important switches, it would sway when the ship moved, a constant reminder to the pilot of the life he’d left behind.
Of all the things he wanted to talk with her about, this was probably the one furthest down his throat. He pulled the necklace off its switch and examined the ring. His face softened, but not quite happily.
He recalled coming home after one of his many long missions, recalled how steadily his wife admitted to cheating on him, and how she said she didn’t recognize him anymore. That, Harper surmised, was probably because she’d packed all their photos—along with his belongings—in four simple boxes by the door. He always held the theory that, if she tried harder, or looked at the pictures more, instead of other men, she would have remembered him. He remembered how far away she looked by the end of it all, and the ring was the only reminder of a happier time.
“You got a woman back home?” Gally prodded, interrupting his recollection of the years that ended with one horrible night. Her tone was relaxed and casual, as if they were in the actual military, lying in cots and recalling life before the war. He didn’t nod, he didn’t shake his head; he just stared at the ring.
Stars Gods Wolves: Book One: Carrion Page 10
