by L. V. Lane
“And if anything happens to you because you’re trying to protect me, she will be… angry with me!”
Firstly, Jax rarely used questionable language so him calling Riley, who was a particularly petite and fragile woman, a ‘dickhead’ was indication of high tension indeed. Riley, likewise, had never sworn, and yet, I was confident ‘angry’ wasn’t her first choice. This was borderline hysterical. I hadn’t experienced quality entertainment in a long time. Keeping my face neutral, I said, “Send for Eva.”
All three blanched.
Eric, muttering under his breath about ‘death plots’ and ‘bad ideas’, stalked out of the room.
In his absence, Riley and Jax maintained stony expressions. The studious and sensitive former Federation underclass had established an immediate and deep mental rapport with Eva. I’d always know Eva had a soft spot for Riley, and notwithstanding the lack of prediction to support this. But I was pissed she’d gone so far as to ask Jax to defy my orders.
Jax? I couldn’t call myself objective where he was concerned anymore. I couldn’t decide what bothered me most, that she had gone to him with this request, or that Jax had broken rules for the first time in his life as a result.
I tried not to make a comparison between Jax and me, but my mind went there anyway. He was young, good-looking, and carried himself with an air of supreme confidence. Women, and no small number of men, swooned in his presence. While Eva was attractive, she had more attitude than a nest of vipers and was the least emotionally communicative woman I had ever met. In any other soldier but Jax, I might have been inclined to think they saw banging the predictive as a rite of passage, but I had a suspicion that wasn’t the case with Jax.
After an awkward period of waiting, the cargo door opened to admit Eva and Eric. She stopped dead inside the door, and her frantic eyes shifted between Riley, Jax, and me.
I wondered if she was having a prediction. If she was having her first post-incident prediction about this, then it had to be a cruel type of Karma. It took exceptional self-discipline not to smile.
Eric indicated she should step forward. After a significant pause, she did.
Looking at Eva, I asked, “Who does Jax report to?”
Her eyes clouded in confusion. “You?”
“Correct answer… And who does he take orders from?”
She stilled before she reluctantly admitted, “You.”
I wondered if she was recalling what happened the last time she started countering my orders behind my back. “Also, the correct answer… Are you predicting?”
Her eyes darted in a subconscious tell toward Jax, who stared stoically ahead. “No,” she said softly.
“Finally, do you have any more personal relationships that are going to disrupt things?”
Her face flushed pink. “Well, there’s—” She gestured in my general direction. “You, obviously.” She swallowed, and an awkward silence followed.
So much for maintaining an illusion of neutrality. “An indicative yes or no would have been fine… Actually, it was a rhetorical question, and I just wanted the no.”
Eric folded my arms. His expression held all the joy of someone chewing on grit.
Jax rolled his eyes. “Seriously Eva, what the f—”
“Silence,” I said softly. Unhappy faces stared back. “We all need to adjust to colony life and the people we live with. Personal relationships do not interfere with work or the community ever.”
I looked each of them in the eye before settling on Eva. “If you have reason to ask my team to perform tasks beyond their normal duties, ask me, not them.”
Her stiff nod of acquiescence lacked sincerity and I fully expected she would continue to do whatever she thought best.
“You’re dismissed.”
They fled the cargo hold as one, except for Eric, who lingered. “You don’t get to dismiss me.”
“I believe I just did.”
Marik sauntered in, whistling.
“Out!” Eric and I said in unison. I had never seen Marik move so fast before.
Eric walked over to thump the door closure plate. “You’re sleeping with Eva. Did you not think to mention this before that little scene?”
“Sleeping implies a level of emotional commitment. I fuck her, usually when she has wound me up such that I want to strangle her. It provides a suitable alternative and no one dies.”
“I don’t need the damn details!”
“Eric, we are all adults here.”
“How long has this been going on?” he demanded with an air of defeat.
“Since Nammu—sort of.”
A glum expression settled over Eric’s face. I could see him mentally calculating how and when it might have happened.
“You have blinders where Eva’s concerned, and she’s the master of manipulation when it meets her needs, which is what happened after at Nammu. Half my teams were following her orders instead of mine. It was borderline anarchy. I came back to a shitstorm. You were locked up in the Federation base at the time, so you missed out on the fun. When I called her to line, she ranted at me in my office like it was my fault she’d failed to predict! I wanted to strangle her and I’m normally a very calm person.”
Eric wiped my hand down my face, and then suddenly grinned. “I’d bet my next meal she’s predicting again. And given how hungry I am… I’m confident.”
“Yes, I got that impression.”
“Jax knows.”
I sighed. “Yes, I got that impression, too.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means she’ll tell us when she’s good and ready. It also probably means Riley’s not a threat, given she asked Jax to watch her.”
Eric was still grinning. “How long do you think she’s been keeping it a secret?” His face fell, and he rushed for the exit. “We have to watch her.”
I caught hold of his arm, stopping him. “I guarantee Jax already is.”
Eric took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. “Fine. You’re right.” He gave me a shifty look. “So, that sounds a bit complex with you, Eva, and Jax. And he seemed—ah—a bit surprised about you and Eva.”
“Let’s not go there. I was going to send Jax down to the crashed transports in the gorge to look for supplies, but it will be better if I go instead. No one will notice anything untoward if he’s around her. If either of us started following her, it would draw attention, likewise if I were to allocate a team.”
Eric gave me a look. “Bloody golden balls.”
I grinned. “He’ll keep the camp in order, too. I still need you to escort Rachel to Base-44. The last report said nearly everyone there is down with illness of some kind. I need to get to the bottom of the problem. As you said before, Brent has been useless so far.”
“Does that mean I can punch him now?” Eric’s face brightened.
“No,” I replied with a smile.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Eva
AFTER MUCH PROCRASTINATION and several troubled nights’ sleep, I made the reluctant decision to see Brent, the resident stasis expert, who was also reputedly a brilliant doctor.
Even though he had drugged me, I still believed he was a brilliant doctor, which made it difficult to accept he had made a mistake on that fateful day.
I was also struggling to believe it was a technical failure, which left only one conclusion.
What I wanted was a prediction to prove one way or another.
My meetings with Shenson Sull were taking me nowhere fast. The rations were officially gone, and tempers were increasingly flared. The conversation with Jax had highlighted the danger Riley was in. The answers for my underlying malaise needed to be resolved fast.
The medical transport where Brent worked came into view as I exited the forest. The sun was high in the cloudless sky, and I squinted against the glare. Mentally bracing myself, I headed up the ramp, my boots echoing against the springy mental floor. The pretext for my visit was headaches. It was a common post stasis complaint, and a
valid reason to seek him out.
Engaging a suspect alone was a new experience for me. When I’d interviewed the Rendeen terrorist, I did so in the presence of guards. While Jax knew I was predicting, and Landon and Eric were also suspicious, none of them knew what I was about to do. I had picked this time because both Eric and Landon were away. Landon was currently at the crash site, searching for additional supplies with a team, and not expected back for several days. Eric was escorting Rachel to Base-44 and would be absent for at least another week. Eric still displayed open hostility toward Brent. Were Eric to discover my plans, he was sure to veto them, or tell Landon, who would also veto them.
It was a risk. I understood this. But a necessary one because these troubles were far larger and more important than me. To question Brent effectively, I would either need the brutal pre-work, as was applied to the Rendeen terrorist, or a natural conversation where I might gleam the missing pieces of my predictive puzzle.
I needed my answers. The colony needed answers. It had become clear that speaking to Brent as the person who had prevented my last prediction was a vital step.
If Brent had made a genuine mistake, then this conversation might allow me to eliminate him.
But if my suspicions were true, I would have another minefield to traverse convincing Landon to trust me.
I would cross that bridge when it came.
Reaching the top of the ramp, I found the transport to be empty other than Brent. Colonists had been leaving the landing site for the smaller satellite camps. With Rachel assuming investigation into the illness plaguing us, Brent’s skills were in less demand.
“Eva! Please, come in.” It was the same young face I remembered from the post stasis recovery. My memories of the drugging incident were vague, and I had made a point of avoiding him since.
There was little to read in his amiable demeanor. He had been responsible for my mental disablement, or so he thought. In my old life, the scanner would have been checked for faults. Assuming no faults were found, Brent would have been struck off the medical register, denied the right to practice, and even sentenced as a result. This was a colony, though, and Landon had complete autonomy over rulings of every kind. Landon had chosen to allow Brent to practice. While I understood Brent’s importance when we first arrived, the lack of consequence for his actions still stung.
Brent led me into the transport where empty supply crates had been used to cordon off a room of sorts. A makeshift table with a viewer and some seats—probably from a damaged transport—made up the remainder of his meager office.
“I must apologize about what happened.” He had sensitive blue eyes, and I thought I saw honesty in them as he held my gaze. “I regret the harm my actions caused. I’m sorry for what happened. I thought I was acting for the best. That is little consolation, I’m sure.”
There was no immediate kick-back. “Predicting can be a burden.”
There was the slightest shift in his posture at the ‘predictive’ word. As with Sull, that part interested him.
“You can’t predict anymore, then?”
“No,” I said softly.
“Ah. I’m so sorry, but pleased you have found peace in its absence.” His smile held melancholy. “So few understand such burdens. People often fear losing control.”
As he disappeared into his own thoughts, I felt the prickling of ants under my skin. It wasn’t necessarily his words that stirred my interest, although his word choice was curious.
“I came about a headache.”
“Yes, Shenson mentioned you were suffering from headaches.” He was all business, retrieving a scanner from a nearby shelf, and tapping his viewer to life. “It’s a common complaint. They can reoccur for as long as a standard year after the stasis. It’s the reason we don’t recommend stasis repeats during that timeframe.”
I couldn’t help the involuntary flinch as he stood to use the medical scanner. “Sorry.” He seemed genuine in his concern as he showed me the panel. “I promise I have no desire to harm you. Besides, I believe your brother would kill me if I sedated you again.”
My breathing evened as I saw the analysis setting. This was harder than I’d expected. I offered my arm. “Please, proceed.”
He completed the task swiftly. I was fine. He hadn’t sedated me. The adrenaline spike dispersed leaving me shaky.
Having taken the reading, he stopped and paused.
Trigger. He wanted to tell me something, but he was weighing that decision.
“There’s a matter I shared with the Commander. He asked me to keep it to myself, but this is difficult for me.” His eyes settled on the transport floor and he sighed before looking up. “The scanner. It had been tampered with. The kind of modifications only a Technologist could do.”
Predictive truth. He was telling the truth. All my theories came crashing down. He wasn’t hypothesizing. He knew a Technologist had sabotaged the scanner.
He looked away. “I realize you are no longer predictive, but I wanted you to know anyway. It was my recommendation to Shenson and Landon that you be kept away from certain people.”
Certain people? Was he talking about Riley?
Why hadn’t Landon told me? Did Eric know too? I thought he must. But what did this mean? Was this why Brent still practiced, and why there had been no notable punishment for his action?
Brent turned away, seeming to require no input from me regarding this revelation. He busied himself viewing the results, his brows drawn together in concentration.
Was he pointing the finger at Riley? He must be, who else could it be? Unless there were other Technologists within the colony? I had been so isolated that I had thought little about the dissension I witnessed before we left the ship. There were troubles within the colony now, but it felt disjointed and more a reflection of circumstance than a directed Technologist attack.
I watched Brent with unfocused eyes, pushing the new knowledge aside, and turning my mind inward to that day when I had first come out of stasis and where the troubles began. Riley was sitting beside me. She had just placed the holo-viewer for me to see Serenity for the first time.
So much had changed since then.
The planet appeared serene from a distance, but a monster lurked beneath the surface of that swirling mass of blue, white, and gray. There were other monsters in our new world and colony, only now, I had no notion of where to look for them.
It couldn’t be Riley.
Was I living in denial?
Too perfect. Riley had smiled when I said that, amused that I had picked up the subtle fakeness of the planet’s design.
Riley wasn’t perfect, and yet, I still loved the tiny variances in her facial features, the way her lips tugged up ever so slightly more on the right. Was I blinded by my feelings for her because I had thought to call her a friend?
I blinked, bringing Brent back into focus, his attention absolute on the viewer before him. Too perfect. I blinked again and cold swept the length of my spine.
Trigger.
Predictive insight: Brent was too perfect.
My heart galloped, but I fought to strangle the spiraling thoughts, and stifle the imminent prediction. It was a drastic step and one I did not take often.
“This looks normal, you’ll be pleased to know.” Brent smiled.
Trigger. Trigger. Trigger.
“Good. Thank you.” I mentally counted up to ten on a loop as I spoke. “What about the flu? Do you think I might have that?” The question surprised me, but his widening eyes told me I had found a target.
“Yes, I should run a couple more tests. To ensure you are not similarly suffering. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Trigger. Trigger. Trigger.
Predictive deception: lie. I had no idea what part was wrong, but it was the first time I had noticed deception.
“Thank you,” I said.
He left me alone, heading for the front of the transport.
I had to fight the urge to run. His deception climbed
onto the stifled prediction, weighing it down under a mass of writhing bodies that kicked and clawed like some gruesome depiction of hell. The vision was abhorrent, but predictions often were. I swallowed, and banked my revulsion, then slowed my internal loop count, allowing the words to lengthen, the gap between them to stretch, until I finally stopped.
The suppressed prediction popped into the void.
Predictive insight: Brent is Federation.
The clawing, fighting, demons, crawled up after it.
Trigger. Trigger. Trigger.
The seventeen percent of the colony who suffered the flu and other illnesses were also Federation.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Eric
THE TEAM AND I had been slogging through the thick forest of the not so aptly named Serenity for six days, taking much longer than I’d hoped to reach Base-44.
The progress had been hampered by the wild turns in the weather, which changed from storm-force rain to blistering heat and back again with little warning. We also had to pace to allow for Rachel, our resident geneticist, who while holding up with credible competence, was nowhere near military level of stamina.
As we met the patrols on the outskirts of the camp, Rachel muttered, “Thank God. I hate this damnable forest.”
I grinned, as scientists went, she was alright. “Well, you get to have a rest now. Just a couple of hundred folks with snotty noses for you to peer and poke at… Hope you enjoy fish.” I had done several rounds of the many satellite camps, but Base-44 had an odd vibe going on. Possibly because they had been sicker than all the other sites put together. It was bigger than most too, at nearly four hundred people, making it a secondary hub. A huge lake dominated the region, and the camp was located on its southern shore. They had been fishing with reasonable success, and although I preferred a good protein bar, I was hungry enough to suffer anything edible, including fish.
“I like fish just fine if someone else has killed and prepared it,” Rachel said.
I barked out a laugh.
