by Coy, David
A vine snagged his foot, and he crashed through the tangle to the ground. He struggled to his feet and felt a mass of crawling and squirming on his torso and brushed and swiped at the spot frantically with both hands.
He stumbled on, moving as fast as he could, sweating, and praying now to burst out into the clearing with the next step.
He stopped and swiped at his chest and shoulders and arms and legs at random.
“Gotta . . . get . . . out . . .”
He ran through the thick tangle of vines and branches, crashing through them, beating them out of the way with the tool, stumbling and falling. He tried to count and prayed he was right.
He viciously swatted the huge bugs and crawlers, smashing them flat and leaving raised welts on his skin. He stopped and wiped his hands over his body top to bottom, trying in vain to achieve just a brief moment of bugless existence. He felt a sharp stinging on his butt and slapped at it madly, turning in a tight circle, a dog chasing its own tail.
His heart pounding, he began to swing the tool back and forth like a bat, hacking at the infinite mass of vines and thick leaves. He staggered forward, swinging and hacking at the jungle, trying to kill it with the tool.
When he could swing it no longer, he let the tool hang at his side as he stumbled blindly on, oblivious to the bugs that bit and sucked at him and stung him.
Walking zombie-like, he pushed a large leaf out of the way and came out, to his shock, in the clearing.
The utter absence of leaves and vines in front of his face caused him to laugh out loud.
“Fuck me!”
He looked at the cluster of shelters to his left. He’d missed them by two hundred meters at least. He shook his head in disbelief, not at the measure of his miscalculation, but at the fact that he made it out at all.
Half smiling at the insects, he took a few swipes at the large ones crawling up his legs and arms.
“Get the fuck off me.”
With little concern about being seen, he trotted along the perimeter and back toward the cluster of shelters. He grinned nearly all the way back.
Showered, bandaged and dressed, he stood behind the screen of the rear door and looked out at the patch of jungle visible between the shelters. He’d been foolish and lucky. A few more minutes in there, and he would have been dead. He would have stumbled around and collapsed, and the bugs would have eaten him alive.
He decided not to do any more freelancing. It was risky, and Smith probably wouldn’t like it.
He itched all over and hoped the clinic was open. He planned on going there first thing in the morning.
7
Donna wondered which gene bastards like this one were missing that allowed them to do work like this. It was one of life’s great mysteries. She’d read about people who could do anything to anyone provided they did it as an order from someone higher in rank than themselves. The prick sitting in front of her was one of those types. Natzers or natzys, she thought they called them—something like that.
“That’s the deal, Applegate,” the facilitator said to her. “Take it or leave it.”
Anyone could get down on his or her luck; it was part of life. But why was it so many predators had to charge in, ripping and tearing as soon as your knees hit the ground?
“You’ll be more than a nurse. That must appeal to you, am I right?” the bastard asked.
“Sure. That’s not the problem. The problem is the pay down. I’m a grade five. I should be paid down as a grade five.” She watched him scowl and fiddle with the numbers a little. She knew what would be next—an itsy, bitsy increase in the pay down, maybe enough for a sandwich each week, if that.
“I can go ninety-two fifty per annum, Applegate, but I’m afraid that’s just about it.”
Two sandwiches.
“When would I leave for Verde whatever?”
“Verde’s Revenge. Verde for short. You’d leave tomorrow. They say it’s the richest planet Richthaus-Alvarez Mining has ever discovered.”
“Oh, really?”
“That’s right.”
“Any profit sharing?”
“Nope. I’m afraid not.”
“There never is any profit sharing, is there?”
“Rarely.”
“Then why would you bring it up?”
“I didn’t know I had.”
“You did, and you didn’t, didn’t you?”
It had to be one of those sadistic little things these rotten bastards did just for fun. It had to be.
“I just thought you might find it interesting.”
“I see. I’ll take the deal. I think you knew I would. I’m sure Richthaus-Alvarez appreciates your negotiating skills. You’re one smooth bastard. Pardon me.”
“It pays down,” he said.
“Right. It pays down . . .” she scoffed.
She shook her head right at him. He stared at her and finally pursed his thick lips. Donna thought she could detect just the hint of a sick little smile in those worm-like structures. Her Irish temper was flaring. She could feel her ears beginning to turn red and wished for a perverse second she could be this prick’s personal nurse for just a couple of days the next time he got good and sick.
Something was wrong about this Verde deal. It didn’t make sense to her that the alleged richest mining project in the Commonwealth was using the cheapest contractors in same. Something was wrong about that. The fact that Judy and some of the others from Fuji were there cemented it all down. They could get all the Fuji workers for peanuts. To top it off, they’d signed her on as a Nurse Administrator; some kind of double-duty contract. That was a sure sign the pay downs were skimpy.
This contract would put her back five years. Five full years. All because the director of the clinic on Fuji, where she worked last, was a goddamned crook. Now everyone who had worked there had a blight on his or her record; a permanent stigma attached to them like a nasty, derogatory addendum.
“You could look on the bright side. You could be out of work completely,” the facilitator said through thick lips.
“Can I just sign and get the hell out of here, please?”
The facilitator sighed a big ol’ huffy huff and turned the pad around for her. Donna scratched her signature in the flashing boxes with the stylus; once, twice, three times. She tried to push the stylus right through the pad on the last one. It didn’t do anything but stress out her signature. It looked like a crazy woman had signed in her place. She almost laughed at it.
Perfect.
She didn’t look at him, but she knew he was gloating. She slumped back in her chair and closed her eyes tight. She was tempted to open her eyes, lean forward, and let her evil eye flare at him. She knew how unsettling it could be. Then, without trying, her head started to shake in denial.
“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he said, smelling blood.
She could have strangled him. She leaned forward with her hands on her knees and glared at him. There was a beam of light coming in the window, and she put her eye right in it to light up the blue part. She watched him squirm as she fixed him with it.
“That’s a remarkable eye you have,” he said, a little uncomfortable.
“Runs in the family,” she said evenly. “Every few generations the meanest girl-child in the family gets born with an eye like this.”
“Fascinating,” he said cautiously.
“You know, maybe someday you’ll get squeezed, then you’ll know what it feels like.”
“I’m just doing my job. I’m sure you understand.”
You bet I do.
She walked out of the facilitator’s office and down the hall toward the bathroom to pee. What she really wanted to do was piss right there in the hall—right on the floor.
She recognized several other people sitting on the bench outside, waiting to get screwed by him, too. Judy Hattie was there with her baby. Judy had worked as a Record Keeper at the Fuji clinic and Donna had seen her almost every day for three years. She hadn’t been
especially well-liked, but she’d done her job well enough. The baby was crawling around on the floor while Judy watched him. That surprised Donna. Dirt, trash and crap covered the floor. Judy knew better than that. Sitting with her chin in her hand and her feet turned in, Judy was the very picture of hopelessness. Maybe that was it; she just didn’t care. Apathy was not a good card to bargain with, and it sure as hell wouldn’t increase her chances of cutting a decent contract with the worm-lipped bastard behind the door.
“Hi, Judy,” she said with a smile.
“Oh, hi, Donna.”
“How are you? Is that little Duncan?”
Donna reached down and picked the baby up. Before she handed him to Judy, she gave him a quick once over. He was dirty and sticky but seemed healthy enough. No fever she could detect.
“There’s mommy. Duncan wanna be with mommy? Yeah . . .”
“Did you sign up for the Verda thing?” Judy asked taking the child.
“Verde. Yeah, I’m afraid so. Are you going? It’s not a very good deal.”
“I know. I don’t have a choice,” she bounced the baby a little jiggle as if to drive home the point.
Donna sat down close to Judy and, with two fingers and a grin, shook the baby’s hand.
“Judy,” she whispered. “Isn’t there another contract you could take? Anything? This one really sucks. It’s going to be hard there. Verde’s only been open about a year, and it’s no place for a baby.”
Judy put her chin back in her hand and shook her head. She had no options. Donna knew the feeling.
“I don’t know what to do,” Judy said finally.
Donna studied her and the baby, giving the baby another two-fingered handshake.
“Well, I guess we’re off to the planet Verde!” she said to the baby, shaking his tacky hand yet again. “Won’t that be fun?”
Judy and Donna looked at each other and mirrored lopsided grins.
“Oh, whee,” Judy said.
“Wheeee,” Donna replied.
She said goodbye to Judy, told her she’d see her on the flight and gave her some parting words of encouragement. She got the feeling Judy appreciated it, but being the odd duck she was, Judy didn’t show it.
She went home to get packed. That was one of the easiest jobs she’d done in months because there wasn’t anything much to pack. After the shitty deal with the clinic administrator, the government had come in and reclaimed most of her furniture and clothing.
Forfeiture.
That’s what the sheriff had called it. Forfeiture. All because Philip Edgars was a crook who screwed up and contaminated everything and everybody around him. Until the trial was over, her things would be the property of the state. Even if Edgars was proven innocent, after all, she could only recover a portion of the value of the goods. She was lucky she still had a roof over her head.
* * *
She got to the shuttle early, got herself settled and browsed the propaganda the steward had transmitted to her. There was none of the clever prose or pretty pictures she’d seen for other off-world projects like Coral Six or Cunningham Moors, just several data sheets describing the climate and existing facilities in general terms. There were a few paragraphs that had a flavor of newspeak to them, but with none of the usual dash and flair.
She looked for Judy but didn’t see her anywhere. It was possible she didn’t take the deal. Donna found that oddly hopeful and refreshing. Thinking about it later, she decided it was far more likely that Worm Lips found a contractor to do her job for even less than poor Judy wanted.
Verde did sound interesting and exotic, though. That was a minor plus. But as a Nurse Grade V, she was concerned about the heat and the humidity. They were simple physical attributes; heat and wet together, but so much could grow in hot, humid places. There would be heat and rain, dirt and bugs, and no telling what else. Spores, bacteria, viruses and their vectors would flourish in such an environment. Larger bio-hazards that bit, sucked and stung would be common, she was sure. The data sheets warned about the nocturnal nature of the insect life. The description made it sound like a curious sightseeing phenomenon that you just shouldn’t miss. Hype aside, Donna reasoned that the nighttime nature of the insect life might be the reason there had been so few incidents of reported infection and attack so far. The biological inventories would give her a complete picture.
She had a lot to do. Thinking about it almost overwhelmed her.
The trip would take nearly a month. She could use that time to develop a plan. Her contract set out the goals she’d signed up for in great detail, but provided no plan to achieve them. She could get dinged for not complying with any one of the contract goals she’d committed to.
She sighed and called the goddamned thing up on the pad. When she read the first line, she felt her guts twist with dread.
I, Donna McNeil Applegate, GHHA8223, do hereby . . .
Oh, hell. There was no use crying over it. She’d gotten a raw deal, and there was nothing she could do about it now. It wasn’t her fault.
She was to set up a new clinic on the planet itself, equip it and staff it. She was allowed four contractors in Jantomar and could add two more in each period thereafter. That wasn’t too bad. Only one Physician First Class for the first year, though. That wasn’t so good. She carried no certifications herself for invasive surgery, although she could do most emergency cutting herself in a pinch. What she would need was at least one staffer who had the certs to keep it straight.
The supplies and equipment budgets seemed okay at first blush, but she’d have to study them in greater detail to be sure; they looked a little canned. Shortages of the right medicine, or surpluses of the wrong anything could always be a problem, let alone on a fetid ball like Verde. The receiving detail for the object “Medical Clinic” said that a shipment of two hundred and twenty ProPak first aid kits had preceded her and would arrive two days in advance of her arrival. That was a start; crude, but a start. Those kits were the best money could buy.
The only thing the project had right now in the way of medical facilities was the infirmary on the orbiter. She would relieve the Medical Technician II who had staffed it. His contract was completed, and he was going back to Earth. That was fine. He wouldn’t be much use to her in any event. She had a long and legitimate gripe with that particular certification, and the alleged competence it carried. She’d seen his files: they were incomplete and shoddy; just as she’d expected.
Later in the day, she tried to access the biological inventories. Those documents would give her a clearer picture about what she might really need. They should have been part of the Med Tech’s data objects, but they weren’t. At first she thought they might have been misplaced. It made sense given the condition of the other files, but when she searched his cabinets, she came up empty. They just didn’t exist. That was distressing. If the inventories hadn’t been done, the entire project was out of compliance with Government Order EHBS 2344, and Richthaus would be subject to an enormous, crippling fine or outright shutdown.
The worst part of the deal was the obvious danger to the contractors. It was almost a certainty that the planet harbored a few Class I Biological Hazards.
She made a note to get that issue resolved as soon as possible. She’d have to see someone in the Superintendent's office to get a current status. They would know.
By the time the transport arrived at Verde, she’d developed a pretty good action chart that suited her. She’d worked in all the milestones as outlined in the contract, and the task list was comprehensive. She wasn’t sure of some of the delivery parameters yet, but there was plenty of wiggle-room built in.
She felt better, like she was under control again. After what she’d been through, it was a relief to be able to chart her own course again. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
She stepped off the shuttle into Verde’s hot, wet atmosphere, and the heat made her want to catch her breath. She could barely do it. It felt like something solid had lodged in her throat. Her
mind had been prepared for it, but her body was a step or two behind. She started to sweat.
There was a buzz of seemingly random motion around the dock. Things were getting underway, taking on an inertia of their own. There were stacks of packages and ragged piles of materials strewn all over it. Loaders moved back and forth like ants carrying stacks of containers to the open-air warehouse connected to the loading dock. From her vantage at the top of the shuttle’s ramp, she could see the entire installation. Beyond the dock and warehouse were a smattering of rectangular shelters and various facilities. She could make out what had to be the power station adjacent to the warehouse and could see the heavy conduits running out from it to the buildings and shelters in the distance. Beyond this cluster of activity, was a vast plain of chopped and poisoned plant material. Most of it had been bulldozed up into huge mountains of debris that dotted the landscape. She wondered how long it would take Homo sapiens to fill up that wide, empty spot with crap.
Beyond the plain was the jungle, thick and impenetrable. From where she stood, it looked like a solid thing, a veritable wall of dark green foliage. She breathed in the air through her nose. Behind the heat and humidity was a rich and fertile scent that gave her no pleasure. It was sweet and cloying, like decaying meat.
The installation was situated close to the jungle perimeter on one side. She wondered if that was such a good idea. The sight of all that dead plant material, the closeness of the jungle, and the heat and smell put her into a funk all over. This was it.
The guy in front of her was standing there like an enormous statue, blocking the ramp. Donna exchanged perturbed looks with the woman behind her.
“You gonna stand there all day?” she said to the hulk.
“I might.”
“Well how about getting out of the way while you’re deciding.”
The steward pointed out the little clinic, what there was of it, and Donna headed straight for it. It seemed to get bigger as she got closer, and it turned out to be good-sized for a modular. It had an attached shelter, effectively doubling its size. It wouldn’t be too bad. She’d lived in worse.