Deep Deception

by Cathy Pegau

  Gennie stopped herself, realizing what she’d said. Natalia’s expression hadn’t changed except for a slight flare of her nostrils. She’d caught Gennie’s words, but how did she feel about them? Hell, Gennie wasn’t quite sure how she felt.

  The train whistle sounded, closer than Gennie had expected. Relief warred with frustration. “It’ll be here in a minute, and I’ll be gone, Natya.”

  Natalia’s jaw muscles bunched, her laser-torch stare on Gennie, but said nothing. A second whistle and the screech of a down-throttled engine.

  Gennie sighed. The other side of the CMA agent’s tenacity was her stubbornness. There was no sense in beating her head against it. “Thank you for helping me.”

  A whoosh of hot air blew against her back as the train entered the station. The squeal grew louder. The platform vibrated beneath her boots, and the train came to a shuddering stop. The couple who had been asleep in the station stumbled out as three passengers shuffled off the train.

  Natalia didn’t respond.

  Gennie shook her head, biting her lip to keep tears at bay. It was ridiculous, how she felt. Less than a week of working with the woman, a few kisses, a single night together and she wanted a teary goodbye after lying to her? Now who was being childish? Ridiculous.

  She had one boot on the step when she heard Natalia call her over the sigh of the engine. Gennie turned around. Natalia stood beneath the platform light, wide-brimmed hat in hand and tendrils of blond hair loose about her face. Her eyes shone beneath furrowed brows.

  “Safe travels,” she said, then strode back into the station.

  Gennie watched her disappear behind the frosted glass. The train blew its double whistle warning of departure, blasting sense back into her head. She hurried up the steps and found a seat on the opposite side of the car so she wouldn’t be tempted to look out the window.

  So what if they both felt terrible about how they’d parted? It didn’t matter. Natalia had a job to do. Gennie had a family to take care of. Those were their priorities.

  The train hissed and lurched then let off a long, mournful whistle as it left Grand Meridian.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Her first day back on the job, Natalia sorted through case files on the SI in her office. She’d returned from her “vacation” three days ago and, as predicted, was assigned desk duty until the Review Board scheduled her hearing. Any day now, her rep said. She assured Natalia that though the vids still hadn’t been refuted by Tech, her performance record would speak for itself. Knowing that Garces would be questioned, however, wasn’t reassuring.

  Desk jockeying had to be the most tedious task in the CMA. Fact-checking for other agents, corroborating witness statements, following up on code violation fine payments.

  Busywork. The term put a grimace on her face. Natalia hadn’t had to do busywork since her first days at the CMA. Was this how she’d end her career, doing grunt work and feeling like a failure?

  At least they’d given her back her weapon and comm. She was surprised Garces had allowed that. More surprised she’d managed to not shoot him. So far.

  On the desk, her personal comm trilled. A flutter danced through her chest. Was it Gennie?

  Was it ever?

  It was foolish to think the woman would call her. There was no reason. She’d never see or hear from her ever again.

  Natalia coughed into the crook of her elbow hard enough to make her chest hurt. The ache in her lungs had started the day they’d left Grand Meridian. It wasn’t getting better, but it wasn’t getting worse either.

  She rubbed her sternum and read the screen. Williams at the CMA lab. She’d met with him her first day back and handed over the swatch with the red-brown stain. After explaining the environment where the material was found, if not the exact location, and what precautions others had taken in handling it, Williams’s eyes had lit up. Scientists were weird folk.

  She’d held off on contacting Sterling to see if he’d found additional information about Reyes Corporation until she could talk to Williams. And, if truth be told, until she could put a little more emotional distance between herself and Genevieve Caine. The end of their relationship or partnership, or whatever it was, was too recent and raw. Natalia wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep it from Sterling. Best not to talk to him until her emotions were in check.

  Concentrating on the case would help get her back on the right track. Williams had agreed to run his tests as a personal favor, letting no one in the lab know what he was working on. Natalia thought he was going to balk at that, but his enthusiasm for “cloak and dagger” ops was as high as his joy of investigating the mystery substance.

  Natalia tapped the accept visual icon. “How’s it going, Williams?”

  “I love you,” he said, his smile wide and his eyes dancing behind the protective shield of a white hazmat hood. Coveralls completed the outfit.

  Natalia grinned, even though she felt like an air lorry had run her over. “That’s gonna be a tough one to explain to your husband, isn’t it?”

  Williams shrugged beneath the impervious suit. “He’s a pathologist, so he’ll understand.”

  “Whatever you found must be good. What is the stuff?”

  His smile widened. “Mostly a fungus in the ascomycete group. A species of Verrucariales.”

  “Fungus? Like a mushroom?”

  Williams rolled his eyes. “There are over sixteen million species of fungi in the known universe, Hallowell. Not all of them go in your lunch.”

  “I’m not particularly fond of mushrooms anyway.” Natalia cocked her head. “But you wouldn’t be this excited if it was just Verrucariales. What’s so special about it?”

  “The fungus itself? Absolutely nothing. It’s an innocuous species found all over Nevarro, sometimes used as an agricultural soil supplement.” He was practically vibrating with excitement and speaking so fast Natalia could hardly keep up with him. “It’s what’s inside the Verrucariales that’s really interesting. There’s a fungal-bacterial symbiosis with a species of bacteria that doesn’t show up on any database. I need to run more tests before I can give you a complete analysis and write it up.” The enthusiasm on his face diminished when he saw Natalia’s frown. “After all this is over and I can go public, I mean.”

  “Thank you.” She trusted Williams not to get ahead of her investigation. Once she had all the evidence she needed to investigate Reyes Corporation, she didn’t care what Williams did with the data. Let his name go into the annals of fungi research if it made him happy. “Your suit’s still sealed. Is this fungal-bacterial symbiotic relationship dangerous?”

  Her chest ached again.

  “Not in and of itself. Inhalation of any microscopic organism isn’t good for you, especially in quantity. Fungus in your lungs or an open wound can have a wide range of effects, from irritation to death. But this little bugger—” he held up the swatch, now encased in a hard plastic specimen dish, “—is different.”

  The back of Natalia’s neck tightened. “Different how?”

  “The bacteria is hexagonal, which is unusual enough, but it’s also a rod.”

  “Why is that unusual?”

  “Generally, bacteria are rods or spheres or spirals. There are a few variations, but most fall into one of those three categories. Hexagonal isn’t unheard of, but they tend to be disk-like. This is a rod with a hexagonal cross-section.”

  “Does its shape matter?”

  Williams
shrugged. “It could have some relationship to function, but it’s also pretty cool.”

  Natalia glared at him. “What are these bacteria doing?”

  “Storing a yttrium compound.” Williams read the confusion on her face and continued. “Yttrium is a trace metal found all over Nevarro, pretty much all over the ’Verse. There are a number of heavy metals here, mostly in moderate quantities.”

  “Which is why the soil needs to be treated before things can be grown for consumption.”

  “Gold star for you,” he said. “These bacteria, however, are ingesting enough yttrium over time to have formed vacuoles to store it out of the way.”

  “Like little trash containers.” Like microscopic versions of the sealed barrels in Grand Meridian’s tunnels.

  “Exactly. So I’m guessing there is a relative shitload of yttrium where this particular colony of fungus is growing.”

  “What does yttrium do?”

  “In small amounts, nothing really. Most everything will have a trace of yttrium in it, even you and me. In high concentrations, however, it causes lung disease, liver disease, lesions, fun stuff like that.”

  “It could poison you.” She rubbed her breastbone. How much of this fungus and yttrium compound had she inhaled? Had Gennie been exposed to it?

  “It’s possible the bacteria are making the yttrium more potent.” He gestured at himself with a flourish. “Hence, the suit. I wanted a larger sample, but I couldn’t colonize it. Which is odd, because Verrucariales isn’t particularly discerning about conditions.”

  “What prevented it?”

  “No idea. The bacteria maybe. I reproduced the environmental parameters you provided, except for the quantity of yttrium, and I couldn’t get this little sweetheart to grow. That’s how I discovered the compound. As far as I could tell, when the bacteria stopped getting nutrients from the fungus, it died and its cell walls ruptured. Poof! Yttrium in my spectrometer readout.”

  Natalia stared past the comm while she pieced together what Williams told her with what she knew about the Reyes Corporation, about the past seven years at Grand Meridian. Why would they be collecting and shipping the yttrium compound-bacteria-laden fungus on the sly to a politically unstable corner of the ’Verse?

  Did they know they were sending poisonous ag products across millions of kilometers? If they didn’t, why would Simon Reyes have been keeping files on the site? His parents’ corporation wasn’t doing anything wrong by harvesting the fungus.

  But what if they did know about the yttrium? Were they that callous that they wouldn’t care if they were poisoning hundreds of thousands of people? What could prompt them to methodically produce and ship such a thing?

  Shit. Only one reason came to mind.

  “Hallowell. Natalia!”

  Williams’s voice cut through the terrifying images that ran in her head. The idea that she could have the little bastards in her lungs made her want to vomit. The prospect of the Reyeses selling the fungus as a bioweapon made Natalia’s head spin. “What?”

  “I said, can you tell me anything more about where you got this and why you’re asking about it? I’m all over the idea of a clandestine investigation, but the look on your face just now scared the hell out of me.”

  Natalia did her best to appear at ease; all the while her chest ached and her gut churned. “I promise you all the information you can handle very soon. Sit on this for the time being, okay?”

  Williams didn’t quite pout. “Fine. Can I, um, name the bacteria?”

  The question came out of the blue for Natalia, but that was Williams for you. “Sure. What are you going to name it?”

  He grinned again, back in science mode. “Hexabacillus elwinii.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Elwinii?”

  “For Elliot and Winston, me and my husband.”

  Scientists were definitely different.

  Natalia smiled, despite the scenario with Reyes Corporation making her ill. “Catchy. Quick question. How—” A lump lodged in her throat. She swallowed it down. “How much of this stuff would it take to make someone sick?”

  Williams’s grin faded. “I’m not sure, Natalia,” he said softly. “Sometimes the body will protect itself against a foreign substance, like when the bacteria encapsulates the yttrium, rendering it harmless to itself. Or the body can flush the material over time. I’d strongly advise a visit to the medicos. Soon. Just to be sure.”

  “I will. Thanks, Elliot.”

  She tapped the disconnect and leaned over the projected keyboard on her desk to run a search of CMA incident records for Grand Meridian. Her brain buzzed with worry. What if she was sick? Could the yttrium be removed from her body? Nano treatments for heavy metal poisoning where effective, if initiated in a timely manner.

  Did going anywhere near the shaft put Gennie in danger? A visit to the medicos would tell her if she needed to contact Gennie. How would that conversation start? Hi, I know we parted on horrible terms, but by the way, you may have been poisoned.

  The SI beeped it was finished with the search. Gennie would have appreciated the speed of the CMA’s hardware compared to what she’d dealt with at Grand Meridian. Natalia mentally set aside what would be a very awkward encounter with Gennie and read the list on the screen. While the pirqs were generally left to themselves, the CMA required reporting of major incidents. Starting a few years before Simon Reyes first heard of the “new opportunity” from his sister six years ago, there were twenty-seven reported deaths or serious injury.

  Natalia highlighted those and searched for cause. Most were due to equipment failure or human error in operation or behavior. Eight deaths were attributed to natural causes, three to unknown. Four miners were sent to the hospital in Garner, but there were no follow-up notes. Figured.

  One by one, she opened the files of the eleven pirqs who died of natural or unknown causes. Five were older miners whose deaths were due to myocardial infarction. Three others had preexisting illnesses that they refused to have treated by medicos. All of the “unknowns” had reported earlier mild respiratory distress, but also refused to be seen by medicos. It took more than a little breathing problem—a common ailment in a place where keracite dust got into everything—to send a pirq to a medico.

  Respiratory distress. Natalia found herself rubbing her chest again and lowered her hand. She returned to the main incident report file and entered “respiratory distress” into the search engine. Six of the accidental victims had experienced moderate to severe distress within a month of their deaths.

  Coincidence? The accidents ranged from a cutter swinging one of the arms into a coworker’s head when he shouldn’t have been there, to a drunk being hit by a hauler.

  Within a year or two of the last report listing respiratory-related complaints, those had declined and there had been no other unexplained deaths. Sending non-fungus-collecting miners to other areas of the void could account for the reduction of complaints. Equipping those half dozen miners who did the collecting with hazmat suits would keep them healthy, too.

  Natalia ran another search on her SI, this one on agriculture products and any variation on the Reyeses names. Helena Reyes Sabre—when and why had she changed her name?—came up as the Chief of Operations and Chief Financial Officer of HSA, a small company buried under the Reyes Corporation umbrella. The name change and corporate cunning explained why HSA hadn’t shown up in Natalia’s or Sterling’s ear
lier searches until she’d added ag products.

  HSA’s main stock items were, surprise surprise, Verrucariales agricultural soil supplements. Helena Reyes had succeeded in the exact business venture her brother had meant to undertake. Except she’d done it with the approval of Marta and Jackson Reyes.

  Where else was HSA getting their Verrucariales? According to the Colonial Biome Preservation collection permits, required for any native species being harvested, the Grand Meridian site was HSA’s main source. If the fungus was within the mines, even a pirq-run operation, HSA was required to have additional verification and permission from the Colonial Mining Authority.

  Natalia spent the next half hour searching the non-keracite permit database. There, at the bottom of the HSA Verrucariales collection and sale permit, the distinct signature of one Michael Garces.

  * * *

  “And they lived happily ever after.”

  Gennie thumbed the reader off. Branson leaned against her right arm, his eyes half closed, and Melaine rested her head on Gennie’s left shoulder. The bed was barely big enough for the three of them, but the kids insisted she sit between them during story time.

  Branson yawned and snuggled closer. “Did they really, Mommy?”

  Gennie kissed the top of his head, his dark, unruly curls tickling her nose. “Really what? Live happily ever after?”

  He yawned again, nodded.

  “It’s just a story,” Melaine said, dismissing her brother’s question.

  Gennie wrapped her arms around their shoulders. She kissed Mellie’s blond head. “Sometimes it happens.”

  “Are you happily ever after, Mommy?” she asked.

  She had been, once upon a time, with Simon. But it was Natalia’s face that rose in her mind’s eye now. It was the contentment Gennie had felt in her arms, the satisfaction of their success at Grand Meridian, that made her smile. It was the pain of that last day, when the truth came out and the hurt burning in Natalia’s eyes broke Gennie’s heart.