Dominant Species Omnibus Edition

by David Coy

  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 paydowns 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 tw
o 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.

  She ran her ID through the lock and went inside. It was basically empty except for the built-ins and the smattering of stuff brought down from the infirmary. She’d expected it to be in worse condition than it was, but it was clean and fairly new. She ran her hand over one of the examination tables and looked for dirt on her fingers. Not bad.

  She found the controller for the air-cooler and turned the unit on. She was rewarded with a brief, distant hum and a soft hiss of cool air that flowed from the ceiling vents.

  Thank God for little miracles.

  There was ample storage in the form of built-in cabinets and shelves around the walls. A long stretch of one wall was lined with attached lab benches and, except for some boxes, a scope and a few racks of labware from the orbiter’s infirmary, stood uncluttered at the moment. Curtains divided six examination tables, and, at the far end of the structure, were two air-locked surgeries that looked well-equipped. The floor was clean and still whitish, and the lighting was good. The data center was neatly tucked in the corner. To her way of thinking, it was probably as good as it got for an off-world, miner’s field clinic.

  She walked through and gave everything the once over, then found the door that connected the clinic to the resident’s quarters and checked that out, too. The living quarters were neat and clean, not luxurious but sufficient to the job. She liked that. It was a two-bedroom with a small kitchen. She suspected it was no better or worse than any of the others on this God-forsaken ball.

  There was an air controller like the one in the clinic in the narrow hallway. She fiddled with it in anticipation, looking for the cooling switch, but found none. The damned thing had heat, but no cooling. She’d be spending even more time than she thought in the clinic where the cooler did work.

  She picked a bedroom and unpacked her bag, putting her handful of clothes in the drawers and her toiletries in the bath. She was tempted to lie down for a second and let real gravity pull her down tight to the bed, just to say she’d tested it, but she had too much to do.

  First things first. Time to find out what happened to the inventories. It was the first action item on her list, and she was suddenly feeling quite frisky.

  She found the phone and looked up the Superintendent’s number. She hated to introduce herself to his office with a question of such volatility. Her contract depended on it. She’d heard of Ed Smith and seen his smiling picture was on the top of Verde’s data sheets. He didn’t look as bad as his reputation made him out to be, but that was just how it was with such people. She’d seen similar pictures of her ex-bosses; handsome, clean-cut men with clear eyes and straight smiles. Crooks.

  “Superintendent Smith’s office,” the male voice said.

  “Hi, I’m Donna Applegate. I’m the clinic administrator.”

  “Hello, Applegate,” the face said and smiled happily. “You must have just gotten here. There’s another key person I can check off my list. Good. Good.”

  “Right . . . ”

  “I’m Afshin Heronim, Mr. Smith’s secretary.”


  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi.”

  “I hate to ask,” she began. “But I haven’t been able to find the biological inventories that should have been part of the infirmary’s records. I need them to get an idea of the vaccine spectrums to order and all the other medi . . . ”

  “Yeah.”

  “ . . . medications I need.” She didn’t like being cut off like that.

  “Right.”

  “So I was wondering if your office could supply me with a set. It would be a great help.”

  “Right. Well, I’ll have to dig them up. I’m not sure where they are right now.”

  “Okay. I don’t need them today, you understand, but I do need them.”

  “Can I get back to you in a couple of days?”

  “Uh, sure. That would be okay. No sooner?”

  “I’m sorry, no . . . I’m swamped with all the administrative things and so on right now, you know.”

  “Well, okay. You’ll call me then?”

  “I’ll just send them down when I get my hands on them.”

  “Okay . . . ”

  “All right. Anything else for now?”

  “Nope.”

  “Nice to meet you. Hope your stay is a good one. And welcome to Verde.”

  “Thank you. Nice to meet you.”

  “Bye.”

  The screen went blank.

  Donna sighed and shook her head. No way.

  There were many people who could be hoodwinked and put off and dodged around and snowed under, but not Donna Applegate. She could smell bullshit even if it was three hundred kilometers up.

  There were no goddamned biological inventories.

  * * *

  Bio inventories weren’t something you “get your hands on." They were a fundamental, critical part of the project’s initial documentation requirements. They would be, figuratively speaking, on top of the pile. How Smith had gotten around doing them was a mystery, but he’d done it, and she’d bet on it.