The Lethal Agent (The Extraction Files Book 2)

by RS McCoy

  “Abigail?” he asked.

  At the sound of her name, she bolted to her feet and hurried to his side, but her face gave it away. She was terrified, though Michael didn’t know why.

  AIDA

  LRF-PS-100

  SEPTEMBER 13, 2232

  Aida returned to her office resigned to her fate. It was out of her hands now. Director Filmore would either send a colony to 196, or he would require them to submit more research, though there wasn’t any left to do. She had told him the truth. They had already run every analytical test available, utilized every probe’s ability. If Director Filmore didn’t send a colony, they would have to start all over.

  In a way, she was relieved. She had done her job. There was nothing more for her to do, she held no more responsibility over the future of the human race.

  Aida was confident in her work and in her planet.

  Now, all she could do was wait.

  With no work to do for the day, Aida skimmed through her long list of unanswered ecomms. Most were from Robotics, unnecessary updates on their fleet of probes. As long as she got her data, she didn’t care which probe was sent or how long it would take. She cleared half her inbox in one stroke when she deleted them all.

  Several minutes later, her eyes found the lone, important ecomm. It had come in last night.

  TO: DRS SAL & AIDA PERKINS, LRF

  FROM: DALLAS GENETICS RESEARCH AND RECOMBINATION FACILITY (DGRRF)

  MSG: THE IDEAL EMBRYO HAS BEEN IDENTIFIED WITHIN SCHOLAR GUIDELINES AND YOUR PERSONAL PREFERENCES. THE SPECIFIED EMBRYO IS IN TRANSIT AND WILL ARRIVE AT 1400, 9.13.32 FOR IMPLANTATION. DR. AIDA PERKINS NOW APPROVED FOR PRENATAL SUPPLEMENTS. CONGRATULATIONS.

  Congratulations? She doubted they even knew what that word meant.

  Aida collapsed against the back of her chair, trying as hard as she could to be happy. Why couldn’t she be happy?

  She could resign. She could take her child back to Earth and spend the rest of her life as a mother. She had enough money. She could do it.

  Sal would never allow it, she knew.

  Aida tried to remind herself that this was what she had wanted all along, for as long as she could remember.

  Calvin walked into her office and stopped in his tracks. “You okay?”

  Aida tapped the button that shot her ecomm into the air above her desk where he could see it. His eyes skimmed the words as a pained smile consumed his attractive features.

  “That’s great news, isn’t it?” he asked, hands on his hips.

  “What am I supposed to do? Have a child with him? Act like nothing is wrong?”

  “You do whatever makes you happy, Aida. That’s it. Not me, not Sal, not Theo, or anyone else. You do what makes you happy.” He looked back up at the holographic screen. “Besides, you have until tomorrow to decide about this one thing.”

  “Today’s the thirteenth.”

  Calvin pressed his lips together. “Well, then you have two hours to decide.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  “Not even a little?” He shot her his winning smile.

  Aida rubbed at the back of her neck and tried to think.

  Deep in her bones, she wanted to be with Calvin, but there were so many questions, so many constraints. Could they really keep it hidden for the rest of their lives? Were they willing to try? She didn’t know how to make a decision about a child when so much of her life was still in flux.

  But she had to make the decision today. What the hell was she going to do?

  In a stroke, she knew. It was the only thing she could do, really. She had worked too hard for it, waited too long.

  Calvin must have seen it on her face. “You’ll be a great mom.”

  Aida half-smiled, knowing she had made her choice, and it wasn’t him. She chose Sal, she chose her child, she chose the Scholar life she had worked for. There was no space for Calvin in that life.

  It would be hard for him, to work alongside her and know what they used to be, what they used to have. Calvin’s sorrow wouldn’t be quieted by the joy of a child. He would have nothing to keep him from thinking of her.

  “I want you to know that I am sorry,” she offered.

  “You have no reason to be sorry. None at all.” He smiled, but not really. His lips were turned up, but he was far from happy or pleased.

  “I’ll let you know if I receive an ecomm from Director Filmore.”

  “You’re going now?” he asked, hands in his pockets.

  “In a few minutes. I need to go home and change first. I’m sure you can manage without me for the afternoon.”

  “Yes, I’m sure we can.” Calvin hurried out the door. She had no doubt he was upset, that he would be upset for a long time, but she couldn’t help it. He was no longer her concern.

  SILAS

  CPI-AO-301

  SEPTEMBER 13, 2232

  He had told Masry he would cut back on his drinking. And he had really meant it. He’d had every intention of upholding pretenses, just as she liked.

  But Silas hadn’t anticipated the rot right under his nose.

  He drank himself into oblivion and then some. It was the only way to get some sleep after what he’d done.

  Silas had never fired anyone. He’d never actually had to terminate a recruit. He’d watched them be wheeled away in body bags, succumb to the bugs they worked to eradicate, but never in all his days, did he think he would really have to send his assistant into the underground or one of his agents to a prison nation.

  He had had no other choice.

  The cleaning station did its work, rejuvenated his cells, rehydrated his body, and healed his damaged liver.

  There was just one stone left unturned.

  Osip sat on the office couch, barefoot and hair messed. The early morning darkness still filled the single office window. If anything happened, he wanted it done before the girls were up.

  “I need to know that you don’t intend any harm to them,” Silas said, regretting he had to say those words.

  “Of course not. I’m insulted you even had to ask.” Osip didn’t seem insulted. He looked as if he expected it.

  “I know. I’ve never been wrong like that. I’ve never misjudged someone like that.”

  “And now you don’t know who to trust.”

  Silas nodded and leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head as he gazed at the empty ceiling. “I can’t risk that happening again.”

  “Okay, let’s just say I am a rapist. Let’s just say Dasia doesn’t want a thing to do with me, and I try to force her hand. You really think she’d put up with that for a second?”

  Silas had to laugh. Once he thought about it, he realized the truth of it. “She’d beat your ass.”

  “So, since I’m not a carcass, I think it’s safe to say I haven’t tried anything. And I won’t. I’m not a zhopa. I respect women. And if I’d known what he was doing—”

  “I know.” And Silas did know. Osip wasn’t the type. “Things are okay with you and Dasia?”

  “Okay? Hell no. They’re fantastic. If you want me to shout it from the roof top I will. I love that girl. And somehow, she comes to my room at night and tells me what’s going on in that head of hers. She’s—”

  “All right, all right,” Silas said with a laugh. “I get it.”

  “You should have seen her. She threw open the door and launched at him. Tackled him to the ground and damn that girl hits hard. It was amazing. The hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” Silas watched Osip tilt his head back in sheer awe of the memory.

  Silas had no doubt she could hit hard. She’d broken every bone in Georgie’s face. “She flattened Nick pretty good, too.”

  Osip looked at the closed door to what was formerly Nick’s office. All he said was, “I believe it.” A moment later, he added, “You know, the more I think about it, that Cole guy was an idiot. I mean a total idiot. He had that girl, wrapped around his finger he had her. She will be in love with him until the day she dies, and he let himself ge
t killed. He got so far into anth that he gave her up? I can’t even think of anything more stupid.”

  “She didn’t help,” Silas reminded him.

  “I don’t believe it. She told me what happened. There’s nothing she could have done, and you know it. She thinks it’s all her fault, and you didn’t do anything to help with that.” Osip shot him a pointed glare.

  Silas stroked his chin in thought. “I can’t believe you’re actually this serious about her. I know what you said when her file first came up, but I have to say, I didn’t believe you. This is one time I’m happy to have been wrong.”

  “I am. I’m completely serious. I’ll marry her if she wants, or not if she wants. I don’t care. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep that girl. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  Silas sat for a few moments in thought before he told Osip his plan. “So, we usually have recruits work in pairs, but in light of recent events, I’m going to have all three of you working on this. I need a recon team, so when the time comes, Dasia will be the agent, and you and Jane can work out who will be handler. You can trade off for all I care.”

  Osip nodded his understanding. “How long until you get more recruits?”

  “I’m not sure,” Silas admitted. “It’s not like I can go pluck kids from their lives. It’s a waiting game most of the time. And without Nick, I’ll have to go do the interviews personally for a while.” Silas didn’t tell Osip how much he’d come to hate them. And after Georgie, he would be particularly weary, afraid to bring in someone dangerous, someone he got wrong.

  “We can hold things down until you get it all worked out. We’ve been making good progress with the matrix. And with Jane, we’ll get a lot done. We’ll be ready to submit hosts for extraction soon.” Osip stood and walked to Silas’s desk where he held out his hand.

  Silas extended his hand and offered him a good, strong handshake. They understood each other.

  It had been years since CPI had been so understaffed. His recon teams were dropping like flies, recruits terminated for the first time. He’d fired an employee. The enormous building seemed empty, only a few areas in use.

  But still, it had been a long time since Silas felt like he had the right team.

  Not since Alex had he been so hopeful.

  MABLE

  LRS-PS-101

  SEPTEMBER 13, 2232

  Mable tried to look inconspicuous as she raced to her office and threw herself into her chair. Her fingers slid across the screen of her tablet, searching for Dr. Perkins’s native-species catalogue.

  Photosynthetic producers.

  Photosynthetic first-level consumers.

  Primary herbivores.

  Mable had nothing but admiration for the depth of Aida’s work, but in this moment, it was a hindrance. Secondary omnivores was the fourth category she searched, but that’s where she found it, the bug. The Echo.

  She’d never seen it that way. It’s long, slender body, the crown of its head, the slight curve of the antennae. They were all the same, but this one was alive, or at least it was a scan of a living one. It wasn’t half-concealed in the throat of some hapless researcher. It wasn’t clinging to human tissue moments before the clamp retrieved it and plunged it into a jar of ammonium nitrate.

  This was a living bug, a living Echo in its natural environment.

  Without a doubt, Mable knew. There were bugs on 196. This was their homeworld. They had crossed a galaxy to hide inside select researchers and kill them. One had crossed a galaxy to get into her head, only to have Arrenstein pull it out.

  Mable skimmed through the catalogue, her finger swiping furiously past countless insect-like organisms until she found another. The Gleam. Low and flat, it shimmered a faint blue color. She’d never seen one that wasn’t dead—wasn’t already preserved in one of Quincy’s killing jars.

  That did little to fade her certainty.

  Within minutes, Mable had all four. She lined them up on the right side of her screen, one on top of the other, and navigated to the comms on her tablet, searching for Arrenstein.

  “I need your help,” Calvin said as he rushed into her office.

  “Not now.” She didn’t even look up.

  “Yes. Right now. Aida’s infected. I need your help for the extraction.”

  Mable’s eyes shot up. “How long?”

  “A few days.”

  “Then it can wait.” She had other things to do. Like tell Arrenstein that she’d figured out the greatest mystery of the last century.

  “No, it can’t. She’s going down to FIC. It has to be now.”

  “FIC?” It couldn’t be true.

  Calvin nodded and made no attempt to look anything but destroyed.

  “Tell her not to go. She can postpone it.”

  “She wants to go. She chose him.” His eyes welled up.

  Well fuck. “You sure know how to make a shit sandwich,” Mable said as she stood and walked right past him. Then, she remembered what she was about to do. “Which one?”

  “A Slight. Of course.”

  Mable froze. She crossed her arms over her tight body suit. “I don’t know how to extract a Slight. Arrenstein wouldn’t tell me. No one would tell me. There aren’t any vids of Slight extractions. I can’t help you.” She wasn’t about to help Calvin kill Aida. She wanted no part of it.

  “I know, but it takes two people. I can’t do it by myself. I’ll do the extraction, I just need your help. I’ll tell you what to do.”

  “It’s too dangerous. Neither of us—”

  “If she gets to FIC with a bug, it’ll kill her. You know it will. It’ll sense her body at risk during the procedure and terminate her. Either way—she has a better chance surviving the extraction than a bug at FIC.” Calvin took a moment to collect his voice. “Please, Maggie. Don’t make me do this alone.”

  Her stomach sank. This was a bad idea. They both knew it. Extracting a Slight was so complicated, only Arrenstein had ever done it successfully.

  Standing next to Calvin, who was about to watch the death of the woman he loved, Mable couldn’t say no. She would at least help him, offer whatever support and assistance she could.

  “Get the gear. I’ll meet you back here in two minutes.”

  Calvin ran from PS and into the main corridor at nothing less than a full sprint. Mable returned to her office to send Theo a quick ecomm. If something went wrong, he would be the one to address the situation. But the ecomms were subject to the public domain. She had to be careful.

  TO: DR. THEO KAUFMAN

  FROM: DR. MAGGIE KAUFMAN

  MSG: AP TO FIC. SLIGHT. FOUR ON 196. COMM SA.

  Calvin reappeared in her doorway with sweat across his brow. His heavy breaths were audible from across her office.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  He swallowed hard and nodded.

  Mable could see it on his face. He would never recover from this. He would never get over it. He couldn’t let her die without trying.

  There were no two ways about it. Calvin was going to lose her today.

  “Do you have a gas canister?” she asked. He pulled it out of his pocket and displayed it across his palm.

  Maggie grabbed it from his hand and strode past him, straight into PS-100.

  Aida sat in her chair, staring off into space. Mable should have expected it, that she was conflicted.

  She heard Calvin arrive behind her as she asked, “You’re going to FIC?”

  Aida snapped out of her daze to glare at Mable. “That’s none of your business. He had no right to tell you that.”

  “Are you going to FIC?” she repeated, accentuating each word and returning the poisonous glare. Mable wouldn’t risk the extraction if she wasn’t going.

  Aida’s eyes moved past Mable, over her shoulder to where Calvin stood. “Yes, I’m going. It’s my responsibility as a Scholar and a wife.”

  “Then I’m sorry,” Mable said.

  Aida looked back at her. “For what?”


  Mable lifted the gas canister and depressed the blue button. Aida’s face swam in the thick cloud until her body collapsed against the desk. “For that,” she said, though Aida was too unconscious to hear.

  She turned back to Calvin. “What now?”

  “Get her on the floor, on her stomach. Get that shirt off her, too.” Calvin reached behind him and closed the door, striking the rarely-used lock feature.

  It took both of them to lift her out of her chair and slide her to the floor. Calvin took off her shirt and used it to cushion her head against the tile.

  Mable knew it was a waste. Aida would never wake again.

  “I need you to make the incision,” Calvin said, his tone clinical, as he pulled a small scalpel from his pocket and popped off the lid.

  “What? What kind of incision?”

  Calvin used his finger to draw a line along the back of her neck, from hairline to nape, about an inch to the right of the spine. “Deep enough to get through the skin and muscle layers without clipping any of the major blood vessels.”

  Oh yeah, no problem. Don’t hit the jugular. Why didn’t she think of that?

  “I can’t do that. I’ll hit something and kill her before we even get started.”

  Calvin only held up both his hands. She could see him shaking, his hands nothing more than continuous quivers. “Trust me, you have the easy part.”

  Mable cursed her luck. She swung her leg over Aida’s shoulder so she was straddling the woman’s entire torso. “Show me again.”

  Calvin drew the line with his finger then sprayed the entire area with antiseptic.

  Mable started at the hairline, using the blade to slice a thin line along the surface, to mark the location. Already, pinpricks of blood appeared where she’d severed capillaries.

  This was going to be bad.

  In earnest, Mable returned to the top and started again, this time pressing the blade deeper into the flesh—Aida’s flesh—slicing the skin layer but careful to remain within the muscles. She would do it slowly, a little at a time, to avoid any unnecessary risk.