Dominant Species Omnibus Edition

by David Coy

  When she walked into the bio-lab, that thought vanished like a feather in a strong wind. The lab was stark empty.

  “Where’s the stuff?” she asked Joe.

  “Good question . . . ”

  It was a basic laboratory module, she could tell by the benches, lighting and stools. What was missing was everything else; no flasks, racks, aquaria, scopes or cages; nothing. The benches were empty and covered with a thin coat of dust. The cabinets against the wall stood open, and the empty shelves looked as if they’d been picked clean; pilfered of every last item they may have once housed. She could make out ring-shaped stains where bottles had stood on those now empty shelves; careless artifacts of a once complete facility. There was a data center and toilets—big deal.

  “Now what?” Joe asked.

  Rachel vibrated her head in complete disgust.

  “I feel like getting right back on the shuttle and going home is what. This is such bullshit, such bullshit.”

  The stuff she brought with her was supposed to supplement the existing equipment, not outfit the entire lab. They would be pitifully under-equipped with her equipment alone. She was pissed.

  “Horseshit,” she said bluntly.

  “Is there a budget or something?” he asked. “Some way to order things?”

  “No. There is no budget.”

  “Do we have enough to get by with?”

  Rachel sighed and pulled out a stool to sit on. Devonshire was suddenly all the more a liability. He didn’t even know enough to know they couldn’t do their jobs.

  “This isn’t a Roach Grab, Joe. This is a . . . a . . . I don’t know what this is. Do we have enough to get by with? Hell, yes. Screw it.”

  “I’m sorry this isn’t working out like you planned.”

  She sprang back up off the stool. “Hey. No sweat. Where’s the delivery kid? He’s got our equipment.”

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so frustrated. Her dream contract, her plum of a deal had turned out to be rotten. Now, unable to toss it aside, she was being forced to eat it.

  “See if you can find the kid,” she said. “Help him get the containers put away. I’ve got some mail to send.”

  “To who?”

  “Never mind. Just get going.”

  She dug out her pad and gave it a message addressed to her old roommate Vic Sharp, asking him to pack up the remainder of her personal equipment and ship it to her on Verde. Vic was a biologist too and would know how to handle it. The message would be carried back on the transport and wouldn’t be delivered for thirty days. By the time it got there, and the stuff was delivered back, her contract would be two-thirds over. It didn’t matter. Nothing much mattered to her at this point.

  A field biologist’s job was demanding. Fifteen years of advanced and grueling training before you ever got your certs. After that, mostly grunt work if you could find it. Not everyone could do it—certainly few as well as Rachel.

  There were probably less than a thousand certified biologists in the entire Commonwealth and only a fraction of that number were willing to do the field work, the dirty work.

  Rachel loved it. She loved seeing life where it lived and to study it on its own terms. Unlike the lab-heads she’d known, Rachel liked to roll up her sleeves and get right in it. She was used to the dirt and uncomfortable living conditions a field biologist had to endure.

  But this contract was a different matter altogether.

  You couldn’t work without tools. You couldn’t do your job without resources. Time was a required commodity, too; some things you couldn’t rush. To have worked half her life studying, sweating through exams, enduring sleepless nights, wondering if she was good enough, if she knew enough, if she had the stamina to continue. All that had culminated with this dry-fuck of a project. Verde was a biologist’s wet dream from a distance, but up close it was as sexy as a kiss from your brother.

  “Damn it,” she sighed.

  They got the containers inside and stacked up on one side of the lab. She didn’t want to run the risk of bumping into another disappointment, so she called it quits for the day. She sent Joe to the store with a list of groceries and sundries she wanted, asking him to take them directly to the shelter and get himself settled in.

  The sun was beginning to set when she went out back and sat down on the grate, just for a while; just to unwind. Her spot was in a pleasant wedge of shade cast by the lab’s west-most corner. From her slightly elevated seat, she could see far into the rolling green for many kilometers.

  The air was clearer than she had imagined. It was humid in the extreme, close to one hundred percent, she was sure, but somehow devoid of haze, and the reddish slant-light cast the distant hills in sharp relief.

  From time to time, she saw things flying over the treetops—flying things that made her smile a little in spite of herself. Except for the obvious fact of wings, the organisms, from a distance, gave little clue to their physiology. She wished she’d brought her binoculars out with her, but there would be plenty of time to study them.

  She could see bright flowers of red and yellow and white tucked like jewels within the green and black vines.

  She jumped down and strolled over to get a better look. The sun was low and red but still hot enough to make her squint and scowl at the heat.

  The jungle was as thick and nearly impenetrable as she had heard, at least in this section. She walked a little up and back, eyeing it, getting its feel without touching it, taking its measure. She breathed it in deeply through her nose.

  She plucked a large red orchid-like flower from its stem. The stem was fibrous and tough and didn’t relinquish its prize easily. She smelled it with a long, slow inhale.

  God, how sweet.

  When she turned the flower over, she saw an insect-thing as long as her thumb clinging to the underside of it. She’d seen specimens more alien than this one; creatures more bizarre and certainly more disturbing, biologically speaking. But she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen a more fitting representative of a planet’s predominate life forms than this one. It clung to the waxy petal as if it were an integral part of it. It wasn’t particularly well- camouflaged, color-wise, but had she not been sensitive to where things dwelled, she might have missed it anyway, because it bonded so well with its substrate. It was beetle-like with a wide, segmented body. Eight thin legs, like dark hooks, held it tight to the petal’s underside. Antennae were visible; thin hairs as long as the body itself laid back along the carapace, typical of a resting state. Its color was a light and golden brown with a hint of green iridescence along the sides. The head was smallish and ended in a set of wide and blunt mandibles, probably used to chomp and mince the bodies of prey attracted to the flower. Supporting this hypothesis were two grasping forelegs extending out and forward at the ready, their strong, thorny surfaces suggesting no other use.

  It was a perfect emissary, offering up to her by its unique and impeccable physiology alone, a precise, if not friendly, greeting.

  “I’m here,” she said softly.

  13

  He put the last Xercodan in his mouth and crushed the tablet between his teeth. His hand trembling, he filled the plastic glass from the tap and washed the brittle fragments down. Turning was a problem, his feet were so stiff now he could barely make them work at all. He struggled around, using the sink to keep his balance. With tiny, excruciating steps, he crept back over to the bed and sank down on it in slow motion.

  He picked up the phone and asked for Eddie Silk. It took a moment to connect.

  “This is Eddie,” the voice on the other end said.

  “Get your ass over to my shelter right now,” Geary said.

  “I’m workin’ right now.”

  “I don’t give a shit. Get over here right now. You gotta do something for me.”

  “What?”

  “Just get over here.”

  He put the phone down and slumped back on the greasy pillow. He looked down at his feet and barely recognized
them. All of his joints hurt and the cough had gotten much worse since the day before yesterday. He’d tried to get back to the clinic but couldn’t make it. He learned later that the nurse wasn’t there anyway, and nobody knew where she was.

  Doctors . . .

  He’d gone through the bottle of Xercodan faster than he should have. He knew that now; he should have saved some.

  Grinding up two and three at a time had probably been excessive. He had to have some more. The problem was that he couldn’t go for it himself. Eddie would have to go. He was reluctant to reveal the exact location of the stash to someone who hadn’t earned his complete trust, but he didn’t have a choice. The pain was killing him.

  An hour later, Eddie arrived at Geary’s shelter and let himself in.

  “What took you so goddamned long?” Geary asked.

  “What the hell happened to you?” Eddie wanted to know. “What happened to your feet?”

  “I got to have some Xerc, and you gotta get it for me.”

  “Where is it? You never told me where you put it, remember?”

  “Get that locator from the sink and turn it on. Set it to channel two.”

  Eddie got the device and turned it on. He set the tuner to channel two and waved it slowly across the room. When it picked up the signal from the transponder on the drum, the light flashed.

  “Simple enough?” Geary asked.

  “Yeah. I guess I can find it with this.”

  “Channel one’s set for the transponder on top of this shelter so you can follow the signal to get back.”

  “Got it.”

  “There’re some barrels down in the cave. The stuffs down in the first barrel on the right. You’ll see it.”

  “Got it.”

  “Get goin’ then. Bring back ten or twenty bottles. This shit is killing me.”

  “I can’t go ‘til after work.”

  “I’m not gonna wait,” Geary said with malice.

  Eddie looked at Geary’s swollen feet and sallow face and figured there wasn’t a whole lot Geary could do about the wait. Eddie sensed the older crook’s lameness like a young wolf smells the infirmity of the old. A slight sneer raised one corner of his mouth like the beginning of a snarl. He toyed with the idea of hitting Geary with something for squeezing his arm the other day—maybe getting a good stomp in on one of his sore feet.

  “I could get dinged if I get caught,” Eddie said. “You gonna pick up my slack if I do?”

  “Yeah, I’ll pick up your slack, and I’ll kick your ass if you don’t get goin’. Get moving damnit.”

  “And what if I don’t,” Eddie said suddenly.

  “What’d you say?”

  “I said, What if I don’t? That’s what I said.”

  Geary stared at Eddie as if he could swallow his soul. Eddie stared right back, confident in his superior position.

  “You know,” Eddie went on, "You oughta be nicer to people who can help you.”

  Eddie saw Geary swallow but try to hide it.

  “Yeah,” Eddie continued. “You should be a lot nicer.” Geary felt the pressure on his neck and decided to relent. Eddie had him. There was nothing he could do—for the moment. He brightened, like all good liars can.

  “Well, my feet have got me in a bad mood. I apologize.” Eddie saw that as a victory. He put the locator in his pocket and started out without saying another word. He’d had all the shit from him he wanted to hear in one day.

  “Fuck you boy . . . ” Geary said under his breath.

  Before Eddie got so uppity, Geary was ready to tell him to wear some rubber boots in the cave, or he’d wind up just like him. Now that’s just what he wanted to happen; and in a couple of days, the smart-ass would be in the same condition as he was, only Geary would have the Xerc, and the locator.

  “Thanks, partner!” Geary yelled.

  Eddie heard Geary yell something else but ignored that, too. He got in the truck and headed back to the dock. On the way back, he thought about terminating his relationship with that prick before he got in any deeper. This little trip was pure bullshit; he probably wanted the Xerc just to get melted on. He wasn’t going to get dinged just because Geary said so, that was for sure. Maybe he didn’t need the bastard at all. There were other guys around who might be willing to take the risks. He had the inside information and was willing to trade it for a percentage. He didn’t necessarily have to trade with Del Geary. He’d have to think about it.

  After he put the truck away, he called Mike Kominski. Mike didn’t have much to do right now, so he could go get Geary’s shit. If it came to it, he could tell Joan he’d sent Mike on some errand he’d make up.

  * * *

  “All you do is point it and walk in the direction it tells you, got it?” Eddie said.

  “Yeah,” Mike replied.

  “Channel One will point you back.”

  “Where am I going, though?”

  “Into the green about half a kilometer.”

  “For what?”

  Eddie told him.

  “So head out around the back so Thomas won’t see you. Stick to the building until you’re out of sight.”

  Mike looked like he’d just heard something that made no sense whatsoever.

  “I’m not supposed to go in there, am I?”

  “It’s okay. Everything’s asleep.”

  Mike swallowed.

  “I know, but will I get in trouble over this, Eddie?”

  “Not exactly, but don’t let her see you. Get going.”

  Mike thought about it, then put the locator in his pocket and headed for the perimeter, staying close to the buildings and out of sight of Joan’s office like he’d been told. When he reached the end of the row of modulars attached to the landing, he looked around to make sure no one had seen him, then trotted out toward the green.

  He didn’t like this one bit.

  First of all, he didn’t like the jungle much. Daylight or not, he knew there were things in there that could hurt or kill him. What if he stumbled on something and woke it up, or fell in a nest of alien hornets or something? They wouldn’t sleep through that, now would they?

  He hopped over the debris at the jungle’s edge and went in a few meters before he stopped and got his bearings with the locator. He let the device point the way, then started into the green, praying with each step that it came down on dirt and not on the thick back of some slumbering, poisonous monster.

  There are no monsters. Only the ones in your mind.

  He repeated it over and over as he worked his way through the dense foliage.

  * * *

  The Xerc wasn’t working, at least not this time. Each beat of his heart throbbed through the joints of his feet like something mean and hot. As the minutes passed, the pain increased, and he cursed through grinding teeth for not bringing back more of the drug when he had the chance. He was sweating profusely, and the pillow under his head was wet as if he’d dipped it in water.

  Deep in his tissues, the larvae started to move, set in motion by some chemical heat. Now, as large as slivers, they began to whip their wiry bodies, squirming with mindless, flawless impulse to seek larger and larger veins, following the trace of rich oxygen to its source—Geary’s lungs.

  The first larva reached his heart and was flushed through it and down into his lung in a single feverish contraction, lodging in the narrow and oxygen rich tip of one of the lung’s capillaries. It was followed by hundreds more over the next few minutes as the migration continued. One by one, the larvae squirmed through the thin wall of lung tissue, leaving a minute trace of blood from each microscopic wound. But when the larvae passed through this alien host’s lungs to the air, the same secretions that inflamed the host’s feet, inflamed its lungs as well, causing more irritation and edema. Geary’s lungs began to fill with fluid.

  The writhing numbers increased as the minutes passed, and sticking in the mucous of Geary’s lungs, they continued to wriggle.

  Geary coughed and coughed some more, be
nding up red faced with each one.

  Raised to the back of his throat by the action of coughing, the larvae continued to squirm, and Geary swallowed and washed the wriggling larvae down. Down they surfed, in two's and three's on a thin wave of pink sputum, heading to the food-rich incubator of Geary’s gut.

  As the irritation increased, Geary began to gasp and tried to rise up. Weakened, he fell back and lay wheezing. He coughed and swallowed until he could cough no more, a little weaker each time, then he gasped, fish-like, as thick fluid filled his lungs.

  He struggled for the next few minutes, losing life with each truncated and labored breath, his eyes going slowly from wide-eyed panic to dull resignation.

  He died with a final red and weak spastic cough, his bony hands clutching the soiled sheets.

  * * *

  Mike stopped at the entrance to the cave. The locator was pointing directly down into it, and he wished the thing had made a big mistake. He waved it back and forth, and watched as the device confirmed his fear with each sweep past that dark, gaping maw.

  He turned the locator off and put it in his pocket with a scowl. No one told him he’d be going into a cave. It was just the kind of place something mean would live. He almost turned around and went back; and if anyone other than Eddie had told him to do this, he would have. It was dark and looked dangerous in the cave. He had to think about this.

  He sat on a fallen log and watched the opening for a minute. Then he stood up and walked a little closer to it, feeling the hair on the back of his neck crawl up with each step.

  “Hey,” he said in a normal tone. “Anybody home . . . ?”

  He stepped closer, trying to pierce the darkness with his sight.

  “Hey!” he yelled.

  Slowly, cautiously, he started in.

  The pitch was steep, and he had to cling to the foliage to keep from falling down. As he approached the bottom of the incline, the plant life thinned quite a bit. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light; but after a while, he could make out the rows of barrels in the back. A puddle of water covered the entire cave floor. He’d have to slog through it to get to the barrels.