by RS McCoy
Silas closed the vid feed after the fourth or fifth viewing. He knew he shouldn’t be worried. Nothing could be worse than her last extraction attempt.
But she’d been scared. It ate him up inside, but he knew it was good. Fear would make her smart, observant. With Theo’s encouraging words to quell her hesitation, she’d done well.
Silas leaned back in his chair, slinging his hands behind his head. This just might work. They were thinking about the bugs in a new way. They were working well together. They trusted each other.
It was precisely the team he’d hoped to create time and time again.
He had to give it to Nick. As much as the guy had been a pain in the ass lately, he’d made a good call on the teams.
Well, all but one.
With Mable and Theo on their way back, riding on their success, Silas decided it was time to address some other problems around here. He typed up an ecomm and sent it.
Five minutes later, a knock on his door.
“Come on in, Jane. Have a seat. How’s everything going?” He smoothed his tie and tried to pretend he knew what he would say to her.
Jane shrugged her shoulders enough to momentarily disrupt her sleek, black bob. She wore a low-cut dress that left little doubt of her intentions with one of the other recruits. Silas could only guess which one.
She slid onto the couch seat closest to the door and crossed her ankles. It was too bad she was so obtuse. Jane would make a fantastic long-term handler in a Scholar lab somewhere.
“Sometimes it’s hard to adjust to life here. It’s so different from society—”
Jane nodded.
“Is there anything I can do to help you settle in?” A good smack on the head might do.
“No, I don’t think so.” Her lips were tight, her face blank. Silas couldn’t get a read on her.
“You’re the only native New Yorker we have. Well, I guess technically Osip, too, but that’s not really the same. You have such immense background in the Scholar class. You would really be an asset if you could figure out how to work within our program.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jane bristled at mention of her true origins. Silas knew the lie about Philly kept her in good standing with other Scholars—namely Kaufman—but Silas suffered no such delusions. He knew she’d been from one of the highest ranking Scholar families this side of the Atlantic. Too bad she clung to it.
“What about Georgie? How are things going with him?”
Still nothing. “It’s fine. We’re getting along.”
It was then that Silas dropped his façade. He wouldn’t be lied to. “I have it on good authority that you two rarely speak and spend even less time working together.” She didn’t respond until he added, “I know you conspired with Theo in order to get Mable to botch her extraction.”
Jane’s mouth fell open for a moment before she caught herself. “He told you that?”
“He told Mable that as well. She forgave him, and they’ve been working well together since. Just finished their extraction in Berlin, actually.”
For the first time, Jane’s lips curled down into a frown. She was upset, wounded even.
Silas almost laughed out loud. She thought her and Theo would hold hands as they skipped into the Scholarly sunset to have their pre-approved children and combine their spectacular genetics. Theo’s departure from their relationship—whatever it had been—signaled to her the end of her lifestyle. One she clearly hadn’t fully accepted until now.
“Jane, you know you’re not a Scholar, right?” It was cruel, but someone had to say it. Silas had a soft spot for the girl, but that didn’t change the fact that she had a job to do.
“I’m not an idiot,” she seethed back.
“And you know you’ll never be a Scholar again? That you have left society?”
“Of course.”
“There’s a name for those that have left, or never were in to begin with. Are you familiar with it?”
Jane’s eyes narrowed. “They’re called Untouchables.”
Silas tried not to smile. “Well, now you’re an Untouchable. You are no longer in society, just as Osip, and Mable, and even Theo are no longer in society. Every person here is an Untouchable.”
She stared at her hands, refusing to admit the truth she’d long known.
“Georgie, too, is an Untouchable. He’s also a stand-up guy you’ve had the pleasure of being assigned to. You would do well to give him a chance.”
Jane’s eyes narrowed with what looked like rage. A moment later, she swallowed it and nodded. “Is that all?”
“No. If you don’t get to know him, if you find that you can’t do this job with Georgie, you’ll be terminated at CPI. You’ll be an Untouchable, but you won’t have the protection of this program. My guess? Sri Lanka.” Silas smiled his fox smile. “Have a good day, Ms. Gallagher.”
THEO
CAFÉ MITTE, BERLIN, EUROPE
SEPTEMBER 6, 2232
Mable slid into the booth and tugged her crimson hair free from its bun. She dragged a hand through the tight waves to loosen them out again. She looked more like herself already.
Theo joined her on the opposing bench, positioning the bag between himself and the wall. It felt strange to be in the restaurant, in Scholar uniform, pretending to have the life he gave up. Though now that he had—now that he was on the other side—he couldn’t help but wonder how he’d ever gotten along before.
He couldn’t go back now. Even if he had the chance, he couldn’t. He knew too much.
Now, he knew Mable.
Or at least he was starting to. Somehow, he guessed, he’d only seen the tip of that mountain.
The diner was classic in style—red-leather booths and ancient wood tables. It looked to have been there for centuries. A mid-twenties waiter offered them both confused glares before he decided to take their orders, but Theo didn’t manage a single word. “We’ll both have a tall hefeweizen, the sauerbraten and eintopf,” Mable said, and then the man was gone.
“Uh, what did you get us?” Theo asked. He was less than amused.
“Beer, meat, and stew. If it’s anything like the Root, it’ll be amazing,” she said with a smile, one that lit up her whole face.
Theo couldn’t argue with that. “Sounds good. You really miss it, don’t you?”
Mable shrugged. “Not the place so much.”
“You wouldn’t go back if you could?”
“No. I wouldn’t.” She pulled the royal-blue napkin off the table and began folding in the corners. “There’s nothing left there for me.”
“You think Dr. Arrenstein really sent her back to school?” Theo didn’t have full confidence in the guy. He wouldn’t put it past Dr. Arrenstein to pull something.
Mable finished with in the corners and started some other folds before she said, “Yeah, I think he did. He wouldn’t lie to me. Not about that, anyway.”
The waiter dropped off two huge glasses of thick, opaque beer. Theo sipped it and cringed at the bittersweet citrus flavor.
Theo sighed. “If I ask you about your weird relationship with Dr. Arrenstein, are you going to lock up on me again?”
Without looking up, she half-smiled. Her hands continued to manipulate the napkin. “No, you can ask.”
Theo stared in shock. “Uh, what’s up with your weird relationship with Dr. Arrenstein?”
“He killed my brother.” She said it as if it was easy, as if it didn’t bother her, but he knew better. Her refusal to look him in the eye wasn’t an accident.
“I could see how that would make you hate him.” Theo wasn’t sure he didn’t hate him as well.
Mable had just finished folding her napkin into some sort of flower when the waiter reappeared with two plates piled high with steaming hot meat and a bowl of thick vegetable soup. As Mable predicted, it smelled amazing.
“I don’t hate him.” She blew the steam off her spoonful of soup and put it in her mouth. Her eyes closed as she savored the heat and flavor.
Theo watched her, mesmerized.
It wasn’t the answer he had expected at all. He figured they were former lovers or bitter rivals, but not this. And, as always, Mable took it in stride.
Theo stabbed at his slab of beef and managed to pull away a bite-sized portion. It was painfully hot but juicy and savory in a way that rivaled Knox’s creations.
As he and Mable ate in silence, Theo realized that she’d never been honest with him, not really. Save for those rare moments when emotion consumed her, she’d been false. The Mable he knew was little more than a shell—a brick wall of defense built around the real Mable. Hadley had broken down that wall, maybe even Rowen.
The Mable at the booth with him wasn’t the real one. She was the rock-hard exterior. The real Mable cried when her friends were hurt, or squealed when she completed an extraction. Theo had only glimpsed her, occasional peeks in the hospital or the lab.
“Good?” she asked, though his face couldn’t have shown anything else.
“Delicious,” he replied. He meant it. The food was delicious, but he was distracted. Theo wanted to see the real Mable again. Not the one who pushed him away, or the one who tried to use her looks to keep him at arm’s length. Somewhere in there was the girl with the tattoos and piercings, the one who loved Hadley and Rowen, the one who thought about the bugs in a way no one else could.
More than anything, he wanted to see the true Mable.
SILAS
CPI-AO-301, NEW YORK
SEPTEMBER 6, 2232
An afternoon of peace and quiet? Silas didn’t want to believe such a thing was possible anymore. Jane promised to get on board. Maggie was safely on a shuttle back to CPI. Kaufman her diligent guard. It was almost too good to be true.
Silas occupied himself getting caught up on his files, approving purchase orders, and responding to certain delicate inquiries. There was even an ecomm from Masry yet to be handled. He pushed it to the back of his mind and concentrated on the day to day. With all the commotion lately, he’d fallen behind. He didn’t need another distraction.
Evening approached, and then night fell, and all was quiet. Too quiet. Maggie and Kaufman should have been long back by now.
Silas made the necessary motions on his tablet to locate their global coordinates. Still a few hours out over the Atlantic.
What had delayed them?
He felt the rising tide of concern fill him, constricting his chest until he found himself with a glass in his hand and brandy on his lips. Then the meep-meep-meep sounded.
Silas failed to recognize the sound at first, but when he did, he stood baffled. Who would use the alarm system to summon him? Usually, it was the other way around.
He could think of only one person.
Several quick steps brought him to Nick’s open door, where Vicereine Indra Masry’s face hovered in hologram above his desk.
“Thank you for joining us, Dr. Arrenstein,” she said in her cool, dismissive manner. Her eyes found the glass of brandy in his hand.
Nick sat in his desk chair with a barely concealed smirk.
“Good evening, Dr. Masry. I hope Dr. Pastromas hasn’t disturbed you.” Silas kept his eyes on the Scholar commissioner, refusing to give Nick the satisfaction of looking ruffled.
“He has brought some concerning facts to my attention. I’d like you to see me tomorrow morning. I’m at the Olympus Genetics Facility in the northwest sector. Cressida has canceled my 0900 to accommodate you. Please don’t be late.”
She was gone before Silas could respond. He would have to catch the early morning shuttle to Washington. He would lose an entire day of work.
But that was hardly his concern. His blood boiled so hot it threatened to spill over.
Nick sat in his chair looking smug yet unsatisfied. He probably wanted to witness Silas’s demotion. With Silas going to Olympus, Nick would only hear about it in the aftermath. In fact, it would probably be mentioned in an ecomm with news of Nick’s promotion a few sentences later.
As Nick had wanted all along.
Now was not the time to lose his cool. “Well done, Nick,” was all he managed before he shot back the last of his brandy, strolled into his office, and closed the door behind him.
It took him an hour to calm down.
Silas knew he should go to bed, it was already late, and he would have to leave by 0600 to catch his shuttle, but he waited for Maggie and Kaufman all the same. Even with several glasses of brandy in his blood, he couldn’t sleep knowing she was out there.
Maggie and Kaufman showed up sometime around midnight, spirits high as they chatted easily on the way up to their rooms. Silas caught them in the hallway when he heard them.
“You look awful,” Maggie started. She looked him up and down, taking in the glassiness of his eyes and the wrinkles in his shirt. He would have been irritated had he not thought it the last time he might ever see her.
“I’ve been waiting for you. You were supposed to be back hours ago,” he reminded her.
To Silas’s surprise, Kaufman stepped between them. “It was my fault. I asked her to take me to a restaurant for lunch, and we stayed too long. She wanted to come right back.”
Silas doubted it was true, but he was beyond caring. Ignoring Kaufman, he spoke to Maggie. “I’m headed to a meeting with Masry in the morning.”
Based on the slight narrowing of her eyes and downturn of her lips, Maggie caught his meaning. “We’ll be fine. Don’t worry about us,” she said.
Silas didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t like he and Maggie would hug it out and bury the hatchet, but it felt strange to leave her this way. Maybe he would come back, and it would all be fine. Or maybe he would be exiled and end up in the Sri Lankan prison complex he’d threatened to send Jane to. Wouldn’t that be poetic?
But Silas did know he was relieved that Maggie was back and that she would be cautious in the future. That was about as much as Silas could ask of her.
That was far more than he deserved already.
“Get some sleep,” Maggie said, squeezing his arm. “Do you need us to walk you back to your room?”
“No, no. I’m fine.” He waved her off.
“You look more drunk than fine.” She put her arm around his. “Go on, Theo. I’ve got this. I’ll meet you upstairs in a few.”
Without so much as a questioning glance, Kaufman nodded and headed to the elevator. A dog obeying his master.
“I don’t need your help,” he said as he tried to push her off.
“You’re on thin ice as it is, remember?”
Silas didn’t appreciate having his words thrown back at him. “And whose fault is that?”
“Both of ours,” she replied. He couldn’t believe it. Did Maggie just take responsibility for something?
Despite his protests, Maggie pulled him down the corridor, around the elevator tube, and into the small hallway that housed both his and Nick’s rooms. “How’d you know where to go?” His personal quarters weren’t exactly on the tour.
“Where else could it be? First floor is cleaning and galley. Second floor is recruit quarters. Fourth through sixth floors are for off-site agents and handlers. Seventh is for the lab. That leaves you and Nick with the third floor for your offices and rooms.”
Silas scoffed. She was too smart for her own good. “The one on the left.” He pointed at the door and tried to lean on her as little as possible. He would have made it on his own, as he had countless times before, but he did appreciate the help, even if he wouldn’t let her know it.
And he couldn’t figure out why she would help him in the first place. It wasn’t like she owed him anything.
Maggie opened the door to his room and led him in, though he was the one who lived there. “I’m fine, really. You can go.”
“Think Masry’s going to give you the can tomorrow?” She sat beside him on the bed.
“If I’m lucky,” he admitted.
“What happens then?” In the darkness of his room, Silas couldn�
�t see her features, but her tone was one of concern. He wondered how genuine it was.
“Nick will probably be director. He can do what he wants after that.” Silas didn’t want to think of what CPI would become with Nick at the helm.
“We’ll manage. One way or another. You know, you never did give us that meeting. About what we found out with the bugs. Want me to tell you now?”
Silas smiled. “Sure, I’d love to hear it.”
“Okay, so when we measured the metal components, they were really high, but we also figured out that the masses for each bug species is identical. Not close, but exactly the same.” Maggie rattled off her discovery, the excitement spilling out uncontrollably. It made Silas’s heart swell to see her that way.
“But that’s not really possible in living organisms. There are differences in masses between individuals, even at different times of day based on food intake. But the bugs are all the same.”
Maybe it was the brandy, but Silas didn’t understand. “I don’t follow. Who cares if they’re the same?”
“Well, I just thought it was strange, so we went to see Ramona and talked about it and—”
“You went to see Ramona?” Silas froze in shock. Since when did Maggie do what he asked? And why didn’t Ramona say anything about it?
“Yeah, but anyway, we went to your office to tell you. We think the bugs are manufactured.”
“What?”
“You know, like made in a factory.”
“I know what manufactured means, but as I’ve already told you, they’re living. They’re organic. They have DNA. Highly modified, but they have it.”
Maggie didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. “I know, but it makes so much sense. All the hosts are Scholars who somehow compromise their own research or change the direction of their research or something. Then, everyone they work with gets infected, but not in the same way or with the same species. There’s too much coincidence. Someone makes the bugs and selects the hosts. They’re a biological weapon, not a parasitic organism.”
Silas didn’t know what to say, what to think. Had they really had it so wrong all this time? “I hope that’s not the case.”
