Forgotten (The Forgotten Book 1)

by M. R. Forbes

  “You did.”

  “I’m the Sheriff. I do what needs to be done, whether I like it or not.”

  “And two?”

  “Those assholes still have Natalia, and I’m not going back to Metro without her.”

  “Is she really worth that much to you, Sheriff? I’m sure there are other women in Metro, and that’s one loyalty that has no place in a universe like ours.”

  Hayden’s eyes flipped to her, his face flaring with heat. He could have screamed at her, but he held the emotion in check.

  “Have you ever been in love, Jenny?” he asked.

  “Probably not the way you’re thinking,” she replied, recognizing she had made him angry. “I’m sorry, Sheriff, but on the Earth I escaped from, love is a luxury few can afford. If you want to save the colony, that’s a lesson you need to learn.”

  “I’d rather save Natalia than save the colony.”

  She stared at him, not able to understand his perspective. He was okay with that. He couldn’t understand hers, either.

  “But I think maybe we can save both. The sensor that identifies the trife, can it pick up humans, too? It would be incredibly helpful if I knew how many Scrappers there are, and where they’re located.”

  “No,” she said. “There’s a standard sensor suite on board, but the only access to it is through the bridge, and nobody can get into-” She paused. “That’s not true, is it, Sheriff? You got out of Metro. You got in here. You can get to the bridge. It’s secured with the same sequence.”

  “Now you’re talking. You’re saying there’s a system there that can show me the position of humans on the ship?”

  She nodded. “Yes. But you would need to have an admin password to access it. You can probably get it from Bradshaw’s quarters. He liked to keep written copies of everything. He always said he didn’t trust machines.”

  Hayden had no intention of telling her he already had a master code, since she didn’t seem to know it. He wanted to trust her, but their differences made him wary.

  “I can get with that sentiment,” he said. “Where are we in relation to both?”

  Jennifer brought the same view of the ship on the smaller display, using her fingers to manipulate it and turn it in space. She pressed a button, and all of the red dots vanished, giving him a decent outline of the Pilgrim.

  “We’re here, on Deck Eighteen,” she said, pointing to a section of the ship. “The Research module was designed as a drop in for this segment of the ship, as were all of the decks from nineteen to thirty. They weren’t all sealed, but they are by design a little harder to reach. Only one way in and out from bow to stern.” She pointed at the bottom of the ship, right before the hull. “Deck Thirty’s module is a hangar. It has four Landers and a few large capacity trucks in it for helping move the city out into the open on the new world.” She moved her finger up slightly. “Deck Twenty-nine, that’s the one you want. It’s a USMC equipment module.”

  “USMC?” he asked.

  “United States Marine Corp. A military branch. The Space Force was founded after the xenotrife arrived. All of the combat units that were assigned to the Generation ships were pulled into the USSF from the USMC, but their equipment was essentially the same. The stuff you found under Metro came from the module. The stuff that would fit through the connecting corridors. Some of it was taken apart and put back together. Anyway, it has a lift down to Deck Thirty to unload. If you want guns and ammo, then that’s where you need to go.”

  “The Scrappers have probably taken everything from it already.” He lifted the revolver from his hip. “What about this? Have you seen a weapon like this before?”

  She looked at it. “No. But some of the jarheads brought their personal firearms on board. It could be one of theirs. You’re right, the Scrappers probably have raided the module already. It may be they spent all the ammunition years ago.”

  “I’ve only got eight rounds for this thing,” he said. “And a blade.”

  “Maybe you should reconsider my suggestion to try the Scrappers again? If you tell them you want the same thing they do-”

  Hayden put up his hand. “I’m not convinced I want the same thing they do. That option isn’t on the table.”

  Her lips tightened into a firm line, but she didn’t argue. She pointed at the schematic again. “Okay, here’s the bridge,” she said, tapping her finger on a spot near the bow of the Pilgrim, on Deck Four.

  “I thought it would be up on top,” he said.

  “Have you noticed the Pilgrim has no windows?” Jennifer said.

  “I’ve been too busy running to notice.”

  “Windows don’t make sense on starships, despite what you may have seen or read. High-resolution cameras are more than capable. The bridge is here. We can take the central lift here up to Deck Four and-”

  “No, we can’t take the central lift. That’s where I left Pig. He’s sure to keep a guard there, waiting for me to turn up.”

  She was silent for a moment. “Okay, then we can try this route. Central lift down to Deck Twenty-eight, across the mechanical access points here, and then up the bow lift to Deck Four. Or you can take the smaller stairwell here if you’re worried about the Scrappers. Bradshaw’s quarters are close to the bridge. On the same Deck, here.” She pointed to a relatively large suite close to the bridge before showing him the route, tracing it with her finger.

  “Can you turn the trife scanner back on?” he asked.

  She nodded. The red dots slowly reappeared. A large concentration of them were along the route she had given him.

  “Damned if you do and damned if you don’t,” he said.

  “It makes sense. There’s more radiation moving through there, and it’s not the most hospitable environment for humans.” She looked at him. “The good news is, there’s a chance Deck Twenty-nine is still stocked. There’s enough trife moving through there even the Scrappers may not have tried to run the gauntlet for those supplies. Pick your poison, Sheriff.”

  “We’ll have to take our chances with the xenotrife,” he said. “At least they don’t have guns.”

  “You’ll have to take your chances,” Jennifer said. “I can’t go through there. I’m not infected, and I don’t plan to be.”

  “I can’t leave you here alone,” Hayden said.

  “Why not? I’ve been down here alone for almost four hundred years. This area is secure.”

  “Okay,” he agreed. “Is there anything else down here that might come in handy? Anything at all I can use as a weapon against the trife?”

  She considered for a moment.

  “I want to show you something.”

  42

  She led him out of the Control Center, through the corridors to the laboratory. He had peeked inside before, but only for long enough to identify it wasn’t the hibernation pods.

  “I told you before that we had three different mission directives. One, stop the xenotrife virus. Two, create a pathogen to kill the xenotrife. Three, create a mutagen to make humans better able to stand up to the trife.”

  “I remember,” Hayden said. “You said you failed at all three.”

  “We did,” she agreed. “But we were close on the mutagen.”

  “You were close? I saw the bodies in the cells.” He paused. “Tell me something, Jenny.”

  “What?”

  “The colonists you used for the experiments. Were they volunteers?”

  She stared back at him, biting her lip. Then she shook her head. “No. Not all of them. We needed a diverse genetic sample, and we only had so many pools to pull from.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “Different races. Different genetic origins. For example, people with Aboriginal progenitors were more resistant to infection by up to twenty percent.”

  “Aboriginal?”

  “Native Australians. Ten were brought to the Pilgrim with the Research team and integrated into the colony. Unfortunately, none of them survived.”

  �
��You were experimenting on people against their will?”

  “We were fighting for the continuation of the human race,” she said. “Don’t you even dare think you can judge me or anyone on the Research team for that.”

  It wasn’t right. Hayden knew it, and he had a feeling she knew it, too. But what choices did they have? He didn’t push.

  “And you think the mutagen can help me?” he asked.

  “Maybe,” she said. “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “You saw what happened to the last round of samples.”

  “They all died.”

  “Yes, but not right away.” She moved to one of the workstations in the lab, activating it and entering her passcode.

  HELLO JENNIFER.

  She typed onto the projected keyboard until the display shifted to a video of one of the subjects. He was slight of frame, standing naked in front of one of the hatches Hayden was pretty sure had been sealed.

  The door started to open. A pair of xenotrife ducked beneath it as it rose, rushing right toward the man. He didn’t move as they approached, remaining still.

  The first one reached him. It slashed out at him with its claws.

  He moved, slipping aside, his body a hair’s breadth from the claws. His hand lashed out, crashing into the trife’s skull. A loud crack and the creature fell dead.

  The second tried to come at him from behind. He ducked as it pounced at him, backing up, grabbing its head and twisting. Another crack and it too fell dead.

  The man turned to face the camera.

  “How was that?” he asked.

  A third xenotrife rushed in from the doorway. The man couldn’t possibly see it. There was no warning. It was diving toward him when he ducked, bringing his arms up and grabbing it on the way over him and slamming it hard into the floor, breaking its hollow bones and killing it.

  Jennifer stopped the recording.

  “What am I looking at?” Hayden said.

  “One of the mutagen samples. G71C. It was a mutation that made the nervous system more sensitive to the radiation given off by the trife. Kind of like trife lidar. It gave the subject an advantage in agility against them, allowing him to sense their movements, sometimes before they made them. It was one of the most successful alterations, but it was judged too limited. Against three, it was effective. Against thirty?”

  “What happened to him?”

  “He died like the rest. The mutations typically wind up causing either an enhanced immune response or a higher incidence of cancer. Either outcome was fatal within a number of weeks.”

  “But if I’m already infected?”

  “All of the mutagens provide a secondary benefit of immunity to the contagion. That’s why we were working on it as a tertiary directive. The problem was we weren’t able to eliminate the side effects that lead to an equally premature death.”

  “So the disease won’t kill me, but the mutation will?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And that’s why it depends. Because I have a ten percent chance of surviving the infection.”

  “Yes.”

  “What are my odds of surviving the mutation?”

  “None of the subjects survived.”

  “But if you give me this, I’ll have a better chance of making it through the xenotrife.”

  “Yes.”

  Hayden sighed. Ten percent was lousy, but it was something. What were the chances both he and Natalia beat those odds? Slim was still more than none. Nothing was nothing. No chance for him at all. But he could still save her. He could still get her back. She wasn’t contagious unless she was bitten, and he doubted she had been bitten. Once Jennifer told Malcolm the whole truth about the contagion he would let her back in, and if Hayden could take care of the xenotrife? She would have a chance to make it to New Gaia. A ten percent chance. Maybe more. She had some Asian blood in her. Did that give her better odds? What if Jen could continue her research and come up with a cure before time was up? It was a longshot, but it wasn’t impossible.

  Or maybe Jenny was right? Maybe he should give the Scrappers another chance? Maybe they weren’t too far gone to accept that helping one another would give them all a fresh start? He thought back to his encounter with Gizzie. He didn’t understand why the girl had been so ready to kill him after the Insiders and the Outsiders had been parted for so many years. And then when he had confronted Pig, they had laughed in his face as though they were enemies, not long separated friends. They wanted to force him to act, not work with him. How could they hold such animosity toward the colonists when they were all stuck on the Pilgrim together?

  Unless they had been abandoned? Was it possible the soldiers had been left behind, left for dead and trapped with the xenotrife? That would have made him plenty angry, too. And what if not all of the Scrappers were as violent as Pig? If he took away their primary food source and killed their leader, could he negotiate peace with the rest?

  What if he could make it to Deck Twenty-nine and the USMC equipment there? If he could pick up fresh supplies, reach the bridge and get an accurate view of the opposition, it would be a major step in the right direction.

  He looked at the schematic again, following the red dots along the suggested route.

  First, he had to get there.

  “Sheriff?” Jennifer said, waiting for his response.

  He was the one who had gotten Outside. He was the one who could make things right.

  He could sacrifice himself to save her.

  He could sacrifice himself to save them all.

  He looked at Jennifer. He wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do. Maybe the whole thing was a huge mistake. What were the chances he would be able to accomplish all of that on his own?

  It might be the only way to save Natalia.

  He had to try.

  “It won’t kill me?” he asked.

  “Not immediately, no.”

  “How long does it take to start working?”

  “About four hours. It’ll knock you out for a while, but you’re safe down here.”

  “That’s a long time.”

  “You know the options. It’s your call, Sheriff.”

  He thought about Natalia.

  He had to try.

  “Do it,” he said.

  She nodded, heading over to the corner of the room and opening the front of a large, stainless steel box. A freezer. Hayden could see hundreds of vials stored in it, marked with different colored labels depending on what kind of chemical concoction they were.

  “Are you sure they’re still good?” he asked.

  “Yes. I’m just glad the freezer didn’t break down.”

  She took a syringe from a nearby cabinet, using the needle to pull some of the clear liquid from the vial into it. He watched it pool there, still trying to decide if he was doing the right thing.

  “What will it feel like?” he asked.

  “The subject described it as ‘seeing fire.’ He could feel the movement of the trife around him as a burning on his skin. The reaction to it came naturally.”

  “Seeing fire. Right. Am I doing the right thing, Jenny?”

  She glanced up at him. “You know what I think, Sheriff. You took that option off the table.”

  Hayden didn’t respond. He didn’t know why he had asked.

  “You’ll need to roll down the armor so I can get to your arm,” she said.

  He nodded, unzipping the body armor. He pulled it away from his chest and shoulders, careful the identification chip didn’t get dislodged from its spot below his wrist.

  “You promise this will work?” he said.

  “You pulled me out of hibernation for a reason,” she replied.

  “For answers.”

  “I gave you my answers.”

  “I have to be honest; I didn’t like them all that much.”

  She smirked. “I don’t like them either. It is what it is.”

  “Well said.”

  “Keep your arm relaxed,
” she said, pushing a small amount of the mutagen from the tip of the needle.

  He shook it out to relax the muscles. She stood beside him, running her hand on his arm to find the vein.

  “Ready?”

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  She jabbed it into him. He could feel the liquid spilling out into his arm.

  He hoped he was doing the right thing.

  “You’ll start to get sleepy within a few minutes,” she said. “And your muscles will feel weak. It’s normal.”

  “Pozz that,” he said. He was already starting to feel warmer.

  She stepped back, putting the syringe next to the small vial she had pulled the mutagen from. His eyes followed it, stopping when they landed on the vial. The label was white. The text printed on it said ‘Ketalar.’

  He looked from the vial to her and back to the vial. She was staring at him.

  “That’s not the mutagen,” he said, realizing she had given him something else.

  “No,” she admitted. “G71C would have killed you within a few days, and I couldn’t bring myself to do that to you. This is an anesthetic. It’s going to put you to sleep.”

  He wanted to push himself to his feet and pull the armor back on, but he found he didn’t have the energy or the will to do it.

  “Why?” he said. “I trusted you.”

  “You trusted me to a point. I don’t know why you let me inject anything into you, but you didn’t admit you know the admin code, or that you have security clearance implanted in your identification chip. Only the Governor is supposed to have that, but I guess he made an exception for you?”

  Hayden struggled not to tell her the truth about the chip. His ability to resist anything was fading. “I just want to save my wife and Metro.”

  “I want to save Metro, too, Sheriff. I want to save as many of the people on the Pilgrim as I can, including myself. The Scrappers are trained soldiers. They’re survivors. Once they have access to the supplies under Metro, they’ll finish off the xenotrife, and we can all go home.”