‘Well,’ Kitty replied, pulling the shutter closed, though she seemed a little bit disappointed over it, ‘I wouldn’t want to be ill.’
Nothing seemed to happen; there was no shift in sensation, no feeling of speed or even of having moved at all. The only way they knew they had even entered light speed was the captain’s voice a few seconds later coming through on the intercom once more. ‘We are now beginning our descent to the colony on Mars. It is safe to reopen shutters if you wish to do so. We should be landing in about seventy minutes’ time, thank you!’
‘Only seventy minutes,’ February heard Stanley telling his wife, ‘that’s a lot quicker than I expected.’
Seventy-four minutes later the shuttle touched the surface of the planet Mars in the British section spaceport. It then made its way to its appointed arrival gate.
‘Please stay seated,’ the Captain’s voice announced over the intercom. ‘The atmosphere on the planet’s surface is unbreathable. Please wait until the airtight tube bridge is in position with the airlocks and it has been properly tested before you attempt to disembark. Thank you!’
When February was finally making her way along the aisles back to the door through which she had first entered the shuttle, she couldn’t help but notice that both the business class and first class sections were now empty. The passengers in these sections had obviously been allowed to leave first. She also felt a little concerned crossing the bridge to the colony itself. The thing seemed very flimsy to her, and she wasn’t sure it could take the weight of so many trying to cross it at the same time.
The passport check appeared to be little more than a formality. The man at the desk just glanced at each passport quickly and then waved the passengers through. This part of Mars was still considered part of Britain, and it was only those with non-British passports who spent any real time being scrutinized.
The spaceport on Mars was very similar to the one they had left on Earth. A large selection of shops surrounded a lounge area for the use of those waiting to leave for Earth. And for the first-time visitor to Mars, there were display cases showing models of the colony and other marvels of the new world.
One thing that caught February’s eye was one of the display cases, a hexagonal glass-covered plinth on which sat a scale model of the colony surrounded by a representation of what the surface of Mars in the immediate vicinity looked like. The whole thing was bordered by a selection of trays, one for each side of the hexagon, which held small hematite spheres. Not one of them was bigger than a marble. There were small notices on two of the trays on opposite sides from each other explaining that these spheres had been considered proof by some that Mars had at one time had water upon it, or at the very least some sort of liquid.
The colony itself looked pretty much like a large pie with certain slices slightly longer than others. It was built in tiers, with each storey having a smaller radius than the one below it. At the very center of the colony it was eight tiers high, and where the other tiers appeared haphazard, depending on the needs of those in that section, the eighth tier formed a perfect circle around the top.
February knew a little of the colony’s setup. There had been sixteen countries involved in establishing the colony, and unlike the moon, where the whole colony was just a series of pieces added on to the original superstructure as they were needed, the Martian colony had been laid out and planned in detail before anyone even started its construction. Each of the sixteen countries had their own little slice of the pie, the sizes differing depending on how much the country had invested in the project. America and China had the two largest slices, while Britain had an equal sixth. Each nation had its own spaceport, its own shops, usually placed near the outside edge of the colony where they were easy to restock, although in the British section the entire second floor was one giant mall. Some of the nations had even included sports grounds in the design of their slice. Each section also kept its own time, dependent on what the time was on Earth. Hence the American section, located next door to the English section, kept to a clock that was usually five hours behind.
Another thing each section had and took great pride in was its own security force. Primarily it was the job of this security force to keep law and order and to look after the citizens of its section. But there was one job that all sections took a hand in jointly. In the very center of the colony, taking up every tier from the ground to the eighth and occupying every one of the sixteen sections, was the water reclamation plant. This was considered the most vulnerable and most guarded part of the entire colony because water was so important to the running of the entire place. The one plant fed every section of the colony, and so it was in the interest of everyone to keep it running.
February remembered learning about the water riots before she had even been allowed out on her first hunt. They had happened before she had been born. People had protested not only at the cost of transporting all the water to Mars in the first place, but also the potential damage the removal of so much water might do to the Earth. It wasn’t so much the demands that Mars was making for water, but the fear that if the Earth also had to supply all future colonies with water, then where would that leave the Earth?
In the end there had been a compromise, and the Martian colony got maybe a third of the water that had originally been planned. A direct result of this was that water was carefully measured and very expensive to use in the colony.
After a couple of minutes she stepped away from the display case and looked around for the others. At first she couldn’t see them, but she recognized the scent trail they had left and followed that until she caught up with them, not that they were that far away. She hadn’t been at the display long. Stanley and Kitty were standing outside the public restrooms, no doubt waiting for the other two to re-emerge.
‘We’re on Mars,’ Kitty said excitedly.
‘We are.’ February also felt exhilarated but tried to keep her voice calm. She looked around to make sure no herd was in close earshot and added, ‘We’re free from all that nonsense on Earth.’
‘We need to go and collect our luggage and then get to our new home,’ Stanley offered. ‘It’s late, and I for one am feeling quite tired.’
30
Guinea Pig
Myajes didn’t know how long it had been since he was last fully cognizant. The last thing he remembered clearly was being strapped into a chair in a small room with several herd gathered about him. They had injected him with some sort of truth drug. He didn’t actually remember the injection itself, nor did he have any idea as to what they might have asked him or indeed what he had answered. Since then, it seemed that they had kept him drugged. He vaguely remembered eating and drinking, so he obviously hadn’t been kept unconscious, but that was all he could remember doing. Then again, in a Cattery cell there hadn’t really been a lot else he could do.
One thing seemed certain. Whatever he had told them whilst under the influence of that truth drug, it hadn’t been what they had wanted to hear. He had little doubt he would be dead by now if the situation had been otherwise.
So where was he now? A quick look around the room told him this was no Cattery cell. It was a small, well-lit room, about eight foot wide and ten foot long, with off-white walls that were splattered in a few places with dirty brownish stains. He was lying on a fairly comfortable bed of the type that he might’ve expected to find inside a hospital. The wall toward the bottom of the bed seemed to be made totally of glass, but it was too opaque for him to see anything through it. On the other wall, to his right, was a large glass doorway. This he could see through, though all that lay beyond seemed to be the white wall of a corridor. Other than the bed the only other thing in the room was a lavatory, and that was positioned in the corner beside the door. All in all, after the Cattery, with its hay and its bucket, this cell was a great improvement.
Then he noticed, in the left corner above the big glass wall, a very tiny camera. He hadn’t noticed it at first and only caught sight of it
now because it moved a little.
He sat up, draped his feet over the edge of the bed, and instantly wished he hadn’t moved so fast. His head started to pound maliciously. He assumed it was a side-effect of the drugs they had been pumping him full of, maybe even a touch of withdrawal there. He sat there for a moment with his head in his hands. The pain felt as if someone was jabbing at his head constantly with a red-hot spike. He wished someone would bring him something for it, the people behind the camera lens, perhaps. He slowly adjusted to the pain, and though it didn’t leave it did stop its pounding.
It was a waste of time to walk over and test the door, but he did so anyway. As he’d suspected, it was toughened glass, the sort of glass that was designed for high stories on skyscrapers. It might not be unbreakable, but it would take more force than he could bring to bear to break it. Placing his head up flat against the door, he was able to look up and down the corridor beyond for a short way. The way to the right ended in line with the end of the cell he was in. Since there was no point in the corridor going further than the door, he wondered if maybe the cell had been added at a later date than the time the room had been designed. To the left, the corridor again ended flush with the cell, but this time it looked like there was another glass door there. Unfortunately the angle was too obtuse to see what was happening beyond the door. However, on the wall just this side of that door, in a place where it must be visible to those beyond, was a small red light.
He moved back to the bed and sat on it. He considered taking a nap in the hope that it might help fight his headache for him. There wasn’t really much else he could do other than wait for whoever was responsible for his incarceration here to make an appearance.
He didn’t have long to wait. He could only have been sitting back on the bed for a minute at most when a voice filled the room. It was a young male voice, and it sounded subordinate. All it said was, ‘….’s on.’
Then another voice could be heard, also a male but older and more dominating. ‘Are we recording?’
‘The recorder is already on,’ the first voice replied.
‘Good, good,’ replied the dominant voice. ‘Okay, put the monitor on, let him see us.’
Suddenly the large glass wall of Myajes’ cell became a mass of bright colors. Because of his headache, Myajes had trouble looking towards it at first and had to force himself to do so. There were two figures on what he now realized was a large two-dimensional screen, and they were standing behind a small computer console resting upon a desk. Both were male and were wearing long white lab coats.
‘It’s Myajes Conjah, isn’t it?’ said the older of the two. ‘I’ve heard a lot about your exploits. Fairy tales mainly, though, I’m sure. You know, the sort of thing that my son tells his children when he wants them to behave. “Eat your greens or Myajes of the cat people will get you,” that sort of thing. I used to tell him similar things when he was a child, but of course back then it was one of your predecessors. Nevertheless, I have to admit, it’s an honor to meet a celebrity like yourself.’
Myajes sat there, looking at the screen and saying nothing. He was forcing as much antipathy into his stare as he could.
‘Perhaps I should introduce the team to you. I am Doctor Foster.’ Then, indicating the man standing beside him, he continued, ‘This is Doctor Murray-Phillips, my assistant.’ He didn’t finish there. He waved someone over from what was apparently the other side of the room. Then there was a short pause as both doctors looked off screen and then stepped to one side and made room for a third person to get in the picture. The woman who joined them was dressed in a lab coat similar to the other two. She had her blonde hair tied in a ponytail, and just a few hints of makeup to highlight her eyes and cheeks. ‘This is Doctor Suttcliff.’ She smiled at Myajes through the camera as Doctor Foster continued. ‘We also have a Doctor Jones. She’s the youngest member of our staff, and the most recent addition to our team. As a result she’s out at the moment fetching some lunch for all of us. You’ll get to meet her later, though, as she will be doing most of the leg work.’
Myajes sat back on the bed and put his head down. The light from the screen was really making his headache worse, and he didn’t really care who his captors were. At least not right now.
‘I’m hoping,’ the voice continued, ‘that we will be able to get along fine. If you’d like, we can supply you with books or a computer or anything within reason. We can’t allow you an outside line, of course. We can’t have you trying to call for help or anything like that. But I’d like to make your stay here as comfortable as I possibly can. No point you and me getting off on the wrong foot, though I do feel I should point out that your cell is beyond a sort of airlock. When food or drink is brought to you, the outer door will be locked before the inner door is opened. If you should be inclined to try to escape, you will find your route blocked. If you refuse to cooperate with a command, well, let’s just say we have ways to make you more malleable. Finally, should you try to attack anyone visiting you, we will cease bringing you food and water for a period of days dependent on our mood and the damage you do to your victim. We could decide to just starve you to death if the circumstances warrant it.’
‘I could take one of you with me,’ Myajes uttered, but he realized that his heart really wasn’t in the threat. For some reason he didn’t feel any anger at his captors. He was more worried about the sound he had just made. Was that really his voice? It sounded so unsteady, so slurry—was this an after-effect of the drugs?
‘Perhaps! Though if you check your hands, you will see that we have already taken the precaution of removing your claws. You no longer have any natural weapons,’ the Doctor replied without malice.
Again, it must’ve been the effects of the drugs that had caused him to miss this simple detail until now. His fingers seemed to be intact, but his claws had been removed in the same way that a common pet’s might be. Myajes sat bolt upright with the realization. Yet despite the initial shock, he seemed only to feel resignation. It was as if the adrenaline rush that this should have caused hadn’t happened.
‘So anyway,’ said the Doctor, almost not pausing for breath, ‘you’re probably wondering why you are here.’
‘Got caught,’ Myajes commented. He studied his hands further, his lack of claws and his lack of anger towards those who had done this to him. What was wrong with him? It couldn’t just be the drugs.
‘Well, yes,’ Doctor Foster replied, without breaking his stride. ‘There are three things I need from you. The first thing I am hesitant to do because it could kill you. However, it is one of the conditions under which you have been sent to me, and they were quite insistent that I should do this first. I am to administer a truth drug to you. It will be much stronger than those things they used at the Cattery. I’m supposed to wait a week since your last dose, but I’m afraid we haven’t the time. Ideally I’d like to just come out and ask you. Give you a chance to come clean before we use the drug. But the people who released you to me were quite adamant about how I get that information. Somehow I don’t think they’re willing to trust your word for it. Secondly, I have a number of experiments I need to run on you. You are to be my guinea pig. If all goes according to plan, then I should be finished with them within about a week, two at the outside. Hopefully I won’t need you quite that long.’
‘And then you let me go?’ Myajes replied tongue in cheek; he already knew the herd wasn’t about to set him free.
‘I’m not going to lie to you, Myajes,’ the Doctor said solemnly. ‘So far I’ve introduced you to my team, but there are two other people in this room. They traveled on the same shuttle that brought you. They aren’t actually part of my team but are here to make sure that you are disposed of properly when I have finished with you. I’m afraid you will be ending your days in that cell.’ He beckoned again to someone off screen.
‘He doesn’t want to see me,’ said a voice in reply, another male voice.
Doctor Foster shrugged and looked back to My
ajes. ‘Well, anyway, his name is Doctor Benjamin and he’s here to give you your final injection, when the time comes. With him is a Guardsman Hillington. Her only job is to make sure that you don’t get out of your cell and that no one comes to try and rescue you, not that that’s likely. I expect that she will be spending most of her time standing guard outside the laboratory and out of my way.’ The Doctor’s face became one of irritation for a moment. It was obvious he didn’t like having these people that weren’t a part of his team watching him and getting in the way.
What the doctor had told him didn’t really surprise Myajes that much. He was more surprised at his lack of anger at the scientist wanting to use him as a guinea pig. He should be infuriated, and yet it seemed to wash over him, as did the news that he had no more than two weeks, at the most, to live. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about living. It was something else, as if the desire to retaliate had been stolen from him.
Doctor Foster just stood staring for a minute as if allowing Myajes to think things through before he spoke again. When he did he said simply, ‘I’ll have some food brought in to you in half an hour’s time, once Doctor Jones gets back. Inform the person bringing it if you want anything to read, or a clock or something. We will be only too happy to oblige, so long as it isn’t going to disrupt any of the experiments I have lined up for you.’
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