by RS McCoy
She was still asleep when he returned to the apartment, just as he’d left her. She slept peacefully—no screaming, no thrashing about. For the moment, it was possible to pretend she would be all right.
Theo sat beside her on the bed and rubbed her shoulder, trying to wake her as gently as possible.
“What time is it?” Her eyes were shut. Her voice was little more than breath.
“Still early. Dr. Arrenstein is here. Says he has a surprise for you.”
Mable’s swollen eyes shot open. “What?”
“He wouldn’t tell me. He wants to have a meeting with Aida, but she won’t see him. Or me.”
When she tried to sit up, Mable used her broken hand. She winced and collapsed back down before trying it with the other.
“Going to let me wrap that up for you?” he asked.
“I can do it.” Cradling her arm against her chest, she walked to the closet and pulled out a tattered old bag. From it, she produced a strip of black fabric, the kind he’d seen her wear on her way back from fighting with Dasia.
When she sat beside him on the bed and handed him the roll of fabric, Theo accepted it like a Nobel Prize. “I’m sorry I blew up yesterday,” she offered, as if that explained anything.
Theo pulled her hand from her chest and set it on his lap. “You don’t have to be sorry. You have every right to be upset.”
“No, I don’t. I gave him up.” She winced as Theo wrapped the first layer of fabric around the palm of her hand.
“Did you have another choice?” he asked.
“No.”
“Would you have kept him if you could?”
Mable only nodded. A single tear slipped down her cheek.
“Then you have every right to love him. And you don’t have to be sorry to me or anyone else.” Theo concentrated on her hand, too afraid to look up, too afraid he’d said something to renew her anguish. He wrapped the black strip around and around her hand until it was good and strong, firm enough to hold her bones in place until they could find a long-term solution.
“Thank you,” she whispered when he was done.
“Ready?”
In answer, Mable pushed off the bed and walked to the bathroom where she used the mirror to evaluate the mess of her hair. Without the full use of her right hand, Mable struggled to get her blonde hair tamed. Eventually, she gave up and pulled it back into a long pony tail.
To a stranger, she would have looked fine. She carried herself well, she was put together.
To Theo, she was a mess. He could see the lingering swelling around her eyes, the slightly reddened cheeks. He could see her sadness in her walk.
Mable emerged into the corridor, a vision of hidden grief.
Theo knew then, she’d been doing it for years.
As they walked side by side, neither spoke. There was nothing to say.
Mable reached down her hand and slid it into his, only to pull away a moment later. Then, she moved to his other side and slid her left hand into his right.
“Bad hand,” she explained.
Theo squeezed the good one and smiled. In that instant, he knew it had happened. Mable’s walls had come crashing down around them, and, at long last, she had decided to let him in.
MABLE
LRF-PQ-241
SEPTEMBER 16, 2232
Love is blind. Love is unfair. Love is cruel. Love is crooked.
It gives and it takes without care. It lets you believe you’re happy then burns your dreams to the ground.
Somehow, she let herself fall back down the hole. She’d pumped the brakes and dragged her feet, but Dasia and Theo had come into her life—they’d given her their love. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t keep from loving them back.
But it had a price. First, Hadley and Rowen. Then, the colony was terminated. A missile flew across an entire cosmic region to strike her brother and her son from existence. Neither knew her, but it didn’t soften the weight of her grief.
She squeezed Theo’s hand.
It was wrong, she knew. Nothing good could come from getting close to others.
Love is crooked.
Theo leaned in and kissed the top of her head as if no one else was there. He loved her. The way he stood, the way he walked, it was written all over him. It had been for a long time.
Mable wondered how long it would be before he, too, was taken from her.
Oblivious to her fears, Theo walked her to Filmore’s office. He scanned his palm a moment before the doors opened. Filmore sat at his desk looking somewhere between tired and aggravated. He had killed both her brother and her son less than a day before.
Mable fought back the urge to end him. In her mind’s eye, her fists pummeled his face until he couldn’t breathe through his own blood. If she had her way, she would have the best seat in the house as Michael Filmore choked to death.
She shook away the vision. Arrenstein sat in one of his office chairs. When they entered, he turned but didn’t say anything, his eyes full of a sadness that mirrored her own.
In the other chair, Mable saw a familiar face, but an impossible one. Dasia’s new blonde hair hung loose over her shoulders. As soon as Dasia saw her, she bolted from her chair and slammed into Mable with the force of a train.
Mable returned the lung-squashing embrace.
“Missed you,” Dasia whispered in her ear.
“Missed you, too,” Mable replied, sure that the words didn’t quite convey the whole truth of it.
“Is there anyone who isn’t one of your agents?” Filmore asked from his desk.
They both ignored him. “What are you doing here?” Mable asked, not one bit disappointed to see her.
“He made me come. We figured it out.” Dasia shrugged like it was no big deal.
Mable kissed her cheek. “I knew you would.”
“Are you okay?” Dasia whispered.
Mable nodded, but Dasia didn’t look the least bit convinced. “Did you hear about the attacks?”
“What attacks?”
“The domes are down in Philly, San Diego, Madrid. Chicago, too. A lot more.”
“San Diego? Is Georgie okay?” Based on the look on Dasia’s face, he wasn’t.
“I’ll tell you later.”
The office door spun open again. This time, Aida stepped into the room. Her arms were crossed, and her lips were tight.
“Thank you for coming, Dr. Perkins. If you could have a seat, please.” Arrenstein motioned to the chair Dasia had vacated.
Aida didn’t move. Theo arrived behind her and led her to the chair. “What’s this about?” she asked as she sat.
Arrenstein leaned his hip on the edge of Filmore’s desk. “We need you to help us figure out a way to abort the colony to Perkins-196.”
“And why would I do that?”
In a lethal move he probably learned from Ramona, Arrenstein told her the truth. “Because if you don’t, thousands more are going to die.”
AIDA
LRF-AQ
SEPTEMBER 16, 2232
Aida stared at Dr. Arrenstein in a mild state of shock. “I believe you’re mistaken. Perkins-196 is the most habitable exoplanet known to date. It very well could save billions of lives.”
“No. It won’t. Every person who tries to get to that planet will die.”
Aida reeled at the threat.
“Now, we have two options. I can take you through the whole thing, and then you’ll help us. Or you can save yourself an uncomfortable morning and just help us. Either way, this has to happen.”
Aida wouldn’t even consider turning her back on 196. They’d done too much work, searched too long to start over for nothing other than one man’s misguided opinion. “The colony is going to happen. The planet is suitable for human habitation. You have no reason to disregard my research. I won’t hear—”
As she spoke, Aida stood to leave but stopped when she heard, “Your research is unmatched, Dr. Perkins. No one can deny it.”
That gave her pause more th
an anything else. If he acknowledged the soundness of her research, how misguided could he be?
Aida sat back down.
Dr. Arrenstein rubbed his hands across the tops of his pant legs. He was a good twenty years older than her and lacked the polished perfection of a Scholar, but he had a kindness and warmth to him that she hadn’t expected. In other circumstances, she would have been tempted to like him. “I guess I’ll start at the beginning.”
“That would seem pertinent.”
He rubbed his hand across his mouth. “Now, whatever you learn here today, it can never leave this room. Aside from Dr. Filmore and the vicereine herself, you are the first person outside of my facility to receive this information.”
“I understand.”
“Your planet is home to a wide variety of local organisms,” he told her, like she hadn’t personally researched them. Still, he came prepared. From his tablet, he set four of them to hover in holograph.
“For the last twenty years, researchers at my facility have been looking for these four species. It seems they were on your planet all along.”
“Why those four?” They were just a handful of hundreds.
“First was this one, the Echo. It was first isolated in the throat of Dr. Grant Lilliwood after his untimely death at the age of twenty-four.” He tapped the insect-like creature so that its image filled the screen. “Since then, we have extracted sixty-eight Echoes from people on Earth and the LRF.”
“Extracted?”
Dr. Arrenstein nodded.
“And the others?”
“While Echoes are by far the most common, we have extracted a considerable number of this species. One we call the Gleam. It sits in the eye of the host and alters the signal to the optic nerve. This one, the Yield, affects motor function. And this, the Slight, alters memory patterns. It quite literally eats the neural connections in the temporal lobe of the brain.”
Aida blinked several times as the information washed over her. “Are you suggesting that a species from an exoplanet sixty light-years away and with no evidence of higher intelligence, managed to cross the entire cosmic sector to eat human brain cells?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“This is ridiculous.” Aida stood to leave for a second time.
Theo was there to block her path. “Just listen to him Aida.”
She only looked up at him. “I thought you would be smart enough to avoid this kind of delusion. I’m disappointed in you.” She hadn’t forgiven him for calling her selfish. Or lying to her.
“It’s not a delusion. I’ve seen them myself. Everything he says is true.” It was the intensity of his gaze that made her consider it, the way he stood strong and refused to let her pass. Theo believed what he was saying.
By the time Aida sat, a young, blonde girl handed her a jar. It was filled with a honey-colored fluid and one of the creatures Dr. Arrenstein called an Echo.
“And who are you?” Aida asked the girl.
“Dasia Daugherty.” She spoke as if Aida should know the name.
Aida handed the jar back to her, refusing to look at it any longer. She had no explanation other than they must be involved in some sort of hoax. Even Theo had been convinced by their tricks.
“We don’t know much about the bugs. We don’t know how they operate, how they communicate, or how they got to Earth. We know they are organic but have high metal densities—”
“They’re clones,” Maggie offered from the back.
Dr. Arrenstein looked up at her. “You’re sure?”
“It’s the only explanation for their masses and composition.”
Then, as if he’d planned on saying it all along, he continued, “We know they’re clones. We know they tend to target Scholars, particularly those with a connection to your planet. Vince matched their physical compositions to those of your planet, and considering the subterranean structures, I expect they have a sizeable population. Otherwise, it’s all speculation.”
“It sounds like you have quite a bit more work to do.” Aida was satisfied to let a colony take hold on 196 while they figured it out.
Dr. Arrenstein winced before he continued. “At 1638 on September thirteenth, Dr. Filmore approved the colony on Perkins-196. At 1720, the first casualties were reported. In the fifty two hours since, there have been a record 429 deaths directly caused by bugs. With the dome attacks, Masry estimates somewhere between six and ten million secondary casualties. Sixteen domes have been compromised, two of them irreparably. Who knows what cities will be next.”
“And you think these organisms are somehow involved?” For the first time, Aida was afraid. Her hands shook, though she held them together to hide it. They were mentally unstable, delusional. They were hallucinating.
“Dr. Perkins, I know they are involved. Every person related to the colony is now dead, including your colleague Dr. Niemeyer, and your husband Dr. Sal Perkins.”
“Except for me.”
“Yes. You are the lone survivor. You and Dr. Hi—you and Vince,” he corrected.
“And what is your explanation for that?” Aida smiled inwardly. She had found an error to their logic. She could reason her way out of this.
“He performed several extractions on you. I apologize for that. He intentionally withheld that information from me. Had I known, I would have gotten involved much sooner.”
“He told you that? That he somehow isolated an alien species from my brain without my knowledge? On several occasions?” It would have been funny if she didn’t hate him so much.
“Yes, that’s right. I didn’t ask him to this meeting because I thought it would upset you, but if you would like to hear it from him, we can bring him in.”
Aida looked down at her feet. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to see him. She wanted to spit on him. But there was a part of her that missed him, that wanted to go back to the way things had been before.
“Yes, I’d like to hear it from him.”
Dr. Arrenstein looked over her head. When she looked back, Aida saw Theo nod and jog from the office. Near the door, Dasia Daugherty stood whispering in Maggie’s ear.
“Am I to understand that my newest researcher is also an agent of your facility?”
“Maggie? Yes, she is. As is your brother, and Ms. Perch.”
Aida looked at Director Filmore with the realization that she hadn’t been the only one misled by Dr. Arrenstein.
When Theo returned with Calvin—or rather, Vincent—at his side, Aida could hardly look at him. It hurt to look at him, but she did it all the same. She wouldn’t be made to look a cowering fool in front of him.
Dr. Arrenstein directed him to the front of the office where he stood beside Director Filmore’s desk.
“Dr. Perkins has some doubts about your extractions. I was hoping you could walk her through them. I don’t think she quite understands what the process is like.”
Vincent looked like someone had stabbed him in the chest. He gazed at Aida with narrow, regret-filled eyes and said, “The first was an Echo. I extracted it and sent it back to you for evaluation.”
“No, tell her how you extracted it.”
He sighed and started again. “The first time, I squeezed my forearm to her carotid artery until she lost consciousness. I lowered her to the floor and laid her flat. I inserted the clamp into her throat and removed the bug. Then I sent it back to you for evaluation.”
Aida couldn’t believe what he was saying. He choked her? She would definitely remember that.
“Go on,” Dr. Arrenstein prompted, like he enjoyed the spectacle.
“The second was an Echo again, two days before Dr. Parr’s death. I didn’t want to use the stranglehold again, so I asked you for a gas canister. You sent it. I extracted it that night.” Vincent shifted his weight and looked at Dr. Arrenstein, eager to be finished. When Dr. Arrenstein sat in silence he continued. “The third was a Yield. I put her under with the gas and used a small set of forceps to pull it fr
om her ear.”
Aida’s hand instinctively moved to her ear, as if she could somehow still feel it there.
“And the fourth?” Dr. Arrenstein asked.
Vincent shook his head. “She gets it.”
“She needs to know.”
“I did it,” Maggie called from the back.
“You did what?” Aida asked.
“I performed the extraction.” Maggie walked forward and knelt beside Aida’s chair. “You had a Slight. It was attached to your brainstem and was going to kill you. Calvin got the equipment ready. I went to your office and depressed the gas. You collapsed on your desk.” Maggie told the story, her eyes piercing Aida’s. She couldn’t help but believe every word. “I was supposed to cut the incision, and he was going to grab the bug. You bled a lot. There was blood everywhere, on his suit, on the floor. When it came time to grab it, he was too afraid to hurt you. He thought he was going to kill you if he tried to get it. So I reached the clamp between your vertebrae and pulled out the bug. You’re only the third person to ever survive it.”
Aida asked the only question she could think of. “Who were the other two?”
“My brother and me.” Maggie shrugged and returned to the back of the office.
“Thank you, Maggie,” Dr. Arrenstein said, though it was clearly not what he wanted. Aida couldn’t decide why he was so adamant that Vincent tell her the story.
“Anything else you can think to tell Dr. Perkins that might sway her?” Dr. Arrenstein asked her former lover.
He shook his head. “I don’t want to sway her. She’s intelligent, and she can make her own decisions. But she does deserve to know—”
“Know what?” Aida asked. Her mind swam. How much more could there be?
“How Dr. Parr died.”
Aida sucked in a cool breath to calm her racing heart, but it helped little.
“He had a Yield. When you reported 196, it caused him to change the coordinates of the planet, and then it killed him.”
“How dare you,” Aida seethed. It was lower than low to use Dr. Parr’s death and their relationship against her in this way.
Vincent took two steps toward her and stopped. “You know it’s true. You know he deteriorated in those last weeks, that he would never have made a mistake like that. You know he wasn’t himself—”
