by D. M. Pruden
“What the hell, Destin? Chloe is fighting for her life, and your idea of treating your patient is to get hammered?”
“Oh, fluck o..fuck off, Shambers.” I punctuate it with a belch. “There is sweet fuck all I can do for her. She’s gonna die, an’ there ish nuthin’ I kin do ’bout it.”
“My God, Mel—I’ve never seen you like this. You usually hold your liquor well.”
“I usually hold my licker by his ears.” For some reason I think this is terribly witty, and I giggle.
“Oh, talking to you is a waste of time. I’m going to ask Maggie what can sober you up.”
“Coffee is a myth. It just gives you an alert drunk. Tell her to give you three hunnert grams of thrizlininin...thorizlnano...oh, fuck. Ask Aggie what you should take. I’m too drunk.”
He sighs and approaches the bunk. He gently eases my head to the mattress and removes my boots before he lifts my legs to the cot. “It’s not for me. You just lie down before you hurt yourself. I’ll be back in a moment.”
“Thash a good idea, Cap’n. Imma feelin’ a bit tired.”
I remember hugging the pillow before passing out.
“Oh, my fucking god, what did you do to me?”
I sit on the edge of my bunk, clutching my head in the hope that I can keep my brains from blowing out my ears. Chambers stands over me holding a mug of what smells like coffee. The hint of a smirk tries to sneak past his stern expression.
“Maggie prescribed three milligrams of proplaxizine, if I said that correctly.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! No wonder my brain is exploding. Why the fuck did she tell you to give me that?”
“Because I told her it’s an emergency and I need to sober you up fast.”
“Shit! Did she not warn you about how that shit interacts with my medical nanites? They would’ve cleansed my system in a few hours.”
“She warned me; went out of her way to describe what it would do to you, too. Chloe doesn’t have a few hours, though, so since it isn’t fatal, I gave it to you. I can’t say that I’m not enjoying this.”
“Asshole.”
“You’re hardly one to talk. What the hell were you thinking?”
I fight past the exploding agony and stand. “Spare me the lecture. I need coffee.”
“Here...” He hands me the cup. “Maggie told me that, too.”
I glare at him then snatch it from his hand and gulp the contents, ignoring the ribbon of burning pain chasing it down my gullet.
I give him the empty mug and return to sit on my bunk. “Thanks.”
Chambers grunts and pulls the desk chair over. I wait for the sermon to begin, but he mercifully remains silent.
I can’t look him in the eye, so I focus on a spot on the deck. “I can’t do anything for her, Roy.”
“And that’s your final word, is it? You take one glance at her chart and decide she’s a lost cause, or did I miss something?”
I look up at him, hoping to see compassion in his eyes. All I see is the face of condemnation. With a head shake, I turn back to the floor.
“No, you didn’t miss anything. You just don’t appreciate the severity of her condition.”
“Then explain it to me, Mel.”
I clutch the top of my head, searching for the words. “I don’t know how to fix her problem.”
“Isn’t that why you had all that expensive research equipment stuffed into my med-bay?”
“No, you don’t understand. I asked Tessa for that when I thought I understood what was going on with Chloe’s nanites.”
“I don’t get it. You developed a treatment for them and said—”
“I know what I said, Roy. I told you both that it was a temporary fix and within a few weeks I’d develop a permanent solution. I was wrong. There is no fucking permanent solution.”
“What the hell happened?”
“Willis did.”
“Huh? He sneaked in and boosted their potency. That doesn’t change the basic problem, does it?”
A mirthless chuckle escapes me. “Oh, Chambers, you are so wrong. It altered everything. Until he came to that hospital ward, I really thought I was this close to cracking the code on those fucking nanites.” I show him two fingers pinched together. “If he had merely ‘boosted their potency,’ as you say, the synthetic compound would have been at least a little effective. As it was, those little buggers rode right over my compound like it wasn’t even there, because it basically wasn’t.”
“I... I don’t understand. What changed?”
“Willis reprogrammed them—rewrote their pseudo genetic code in the blink of an eye. Just like that, anything I thought I knew about them vanished along with him.”
“So, you start over.”
I shake my head. “You don’t get it. He didn’t just reshuffle the deck—he replaced it with a new one, but I don’t know how many cards are supposed to be in it. Everything is different. Not only that, he made them unbelievably more aggressive.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that the only reason Chloe isn’t dead is because she’s been frozen. When we try to bring her out of it, the nanites will reactivate and kill her before she’s thawed enough for a cure to circulate through her bloodstream. That assumes I can come up with a formulation. All we did by putting her in that tank is postdate her death certificate.”
Chambers stares at me, his expression caught between disbelief and outrage. “No,” he says, “I don’t believe it. Why would Willis do that? Chloe’s father already knows about his role in her kidnapping. It isn’t like she can do him more harm.”
I shake my head. “I... I can’t answer that. It doesn’t make any sense. It’s malice, pure and simple. What else can it be?”
“Nobody is that evil. And why would he bother with something so exotic? If he wanted her dead, I can think of a lot of simpler ways to finish her off. Willis must be crazy.”
“No, it’s overkill,” I say, “but I met him; spent some quality time pushing his buttons in a locked room. He’s a psychopath, but he’s not insane. There is some purpose behind this.”
“It doesn’t matter why he did it, Mel. You have to figure out how to fix it.”
I am only half listening. An idea is swimming its way through the mess banging around in my head.
“What if it does, Roy? Maybe reasoning why he’s done this can give me a clue of how to beat it.”
“Slow down, Destin. You might still be drunk.”
I shoot him a frown. “No, I’m hurting, but I’m sober.”
Closing my eyes, I press my hands to my temples, trying to push through the clearing fog in my brain. To myself I say, “It’s all related in some way...”
“What is?”
Warmth rushes to my cheeks. The guilt and regret I’d hoped to drown in booze leap up and stare me in the face. I hang my head.
“Destin, what’s wrong?”
Screwing up what little courage I can, I look up at him. The words stick in my dry throat, and I remember why I tried to lose myself in a blissful, boozy fog.
“This is all my fault, Roy. Chloe’s death is on me.”
“Only if you refuse to try...”
“No, that’s only a part of the picture. I have to tell you something, and you will probably hate me for what I’m going to say.”
“You’re being dramatic, Mel. What’s happened to us over the past few months is traumatic...”
“Roy, will you please shut up and listen to me? I’m trying to confess something.”
He sits back like I threw a wet rag in his face.
Once I begin to speak, my words flow like water from a broken tap. It all pours out of me in a rush, and I tell him everything: my deal with Umbra; my call to Vostok on the quantum radio; Owen and my history with him; the tracer on the cargo; the holo-mask; the dead bodies in the morgue.
Through it, he is expressionless as he takes in all my deceptions. By the time I’m finished, I’m spent, like I ran a marathon I never
trained for.
Chambers silently stares at me for a long time before he says, “Is that it? Anything you missed?”
I hang my head. “I told you everything.”
He inhales deeply and stretches before blowing out through puffed cheeks. When finished, he looks around the room like he just awoke, refreshed from a deep sleep.
“Wow, that was some revelation. Thanks for sharing.”
I stare at him incredulously. “I demonstrate to you why I am the farthest thing from being a team player and all you can say is ‘thanks for sharing.’ Am I missing something?”
“So, you hid a few secrets. Big deal. Admittedly, knowing some of this could have prompted wiser decisions—I’ll put that on you—but otherwise, I don’t know what you’re beating yourself up about.”
“What about the team player thing?”
“Oh, you clearly aren’t yet, but I never expected you to change your ways overnight. I certainly didn’t expect you to share all your secrets. We all have them. I’m annoyed by your lack of trust, however.”
“Where I grew up, trusting the wrong person could get you killed. It’s a difficult habit to break.”
“Aboard Requiem, a lack of trust will give the same outcome and may cost more than one life.”
“I understand that...”
“And nobody is perfect, so will you please stop beating yourself up and focus on what you’re good at? You were mumbling something about everything being related. What did you mean?”
I am still stunned that my confession elicited such a nonchalant response. A little annoyed, too, but I decide I can live with that.
Shaking my head, I say, “Um, okay, where was I? First, we walked into a booby trap and it’s safe to assume that Willis used the holo-mask to remain unidentified, except in that one instance.”
“To lure the three agents into that passage so he could kill them.”
“Yes,” I say, “so two questions come from that. Why and how did he get the bodies out?”
“Why was the door in the tunnel rigged with explosives?”
“And why sneak in to inject Chloe when she might have died of her injuries?”
“They weren’t life-threatening,” he says. “She had some internal bruising, a few cracked ribs, and a concussion, but the docs didn’t think they were terribly bad. Her Terran-bred bone and muscle structure saved her.”
“But did Willis anticipate that? If Martians had set that trap off, they wouldn’t have fared as well.”
“So, he set the charges after the first group followed him in there,” he says. “He was concerned that more Mars agents were after him. He didn’t expect us to show up and follow him.”
“No, I don’t believe he did. The fact that he risked going to the hospital at all means he must be monitoring the surveillance feeds. He saw us go into the tunnel and watched you carry Chloe out. It was only then that he decided to kill her. But why inject her? Why not just strangle or stab her, or even put insulin into her IV? What are we missing?”
“He obviously had some purpose for that method,” says Chambers. “Why amp up her nanites?”
“The ones in her system were designed to keep her a prisoner. She requires a regular dose of the nutrient that keeps them from eating her alive.”
“Yes, the Jovian Collective uses it for human trafficking and to guarantee their agents loyalty, and we know Willis got them from the JC.”
“Who are now hunting him on behalf of Chloe’s father for his role in her abduction,” I say.
We fall silent, both cogitating on the problem. I decide to try a different tack. “Roy, what is the cargo that Umbra wants to be followed?”
“It belongs to the Collective, so the manifest is bullshit. It could be anything.”
“Okay, given who the client is, what would attract the interest of someone who claims to be a Martian agent?”
“Claims?”
“I’m having my doubts about Umbra’s identity. Let’s forget about who we think he is. First, he’s following a package to learn who is receiving it. What might the Collective be shipping that he wants followed?”
“Maybe what’s inside isn’t important,” says Chambers, “only what others believe it is.”
“Bait,” I say. “The cargo is intended to lure someone to expose himself.”
“The fact that the receiver wore a holo-mask like the one you think he uses supports that.”
“We’re still missing something,” I say. “Those were real Martian agents in the morgue, so Willis attracted the interest of Mars.”
Chambers rubs his forehead. “My brain hurts. After all of this, what do we think we know?”
“I think Umbra, Mars, and the Jovian Collective are hunting Willis. He is in possession of a weaponized version of the JC’s enforcement nanotech.”
“Weaponized?”
“The Collective’s nanites only kill in the absence of the moderating nutrient,” I say. “The version Willis used will cause death within hours. To me, that classifies as a weapon.”
“Giving it to Chloe was a field test?”
I nod. “She is the only person Willis could know for certain who is infected with the JC nanites. He saw her on the video and realized his opportunity to see how the weapon fares against the existing moderating agent.”
“Holy shit,” says Chambers. “The Collective uses it for more than controlling sex slaves. All their high-level officers are infected with it to ensure loyalty, not to mention their private army of mercenaries. A weaponized version in existence will profoundly impact their operations. They would be forced to switch to another method. It could negatively affect them for years right across the system.”
“And Mars, of course, views it as a potential weapon against Terra, or at least to threaten them with to get the embargo lifted. What did we stumble across?”
“And what about Chloe? She is just a pawn in all of this.”
“Chambers, you said the JC will have to stop using the nanites. That implies they possess a cure; a way to remove them. Do you know for sure that they do?”
“Not for certain, but it would seem logical. There are rumours of people who’ve earned the right to be free of them; Cabot, for example.”
“Chloe’s father was on this shit? The son-of-a-bitch has the cure and didn’t offer it to his own daughter?”
“Yeah, he’s a real charmer.”
“He’s toying with her, pretending to indulge her search for Nancy.”
“It’s all a game of control,” says Chambers. “I don’t understand how the Uppers think, but this situation is seriously messed up.”
“If there is a cure, it is reasonable to assume Willis developed one for his pet.”
“That’s a questionable jump of logic.”
“It’s the only hope for her, Roy. I don’t know how to treat her. We’ve got to find Willis before the Collective or the Martians. Chloe’s life depends on it.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
My options are limited, which is a polite way of saying I’m fucked.
So, I go after the only thing I can.
When I get to the lab Hardy provided me at the hospital, Chambers is already there with everyone from Requiem. Schmaltz supervises Shin, Miller, Cervantes, and Mikey as they bring in the equipment and begin to reassemble it.
The scene is a poignant echo of what I witnessed when the Martians pulled together to help Chloe.
“We brought everything on your list,” says Chambers. “Maggie is lined up and ready to link directly to your CI to assist you in real time.”
Even the bloody AI seems to know how a team works.
“Thanks, Roy. You know you could have hired someone to bring this. Why did you expose everyone? Willis might not be done fucking with us.”
He pats the pistol in his thigh holster. “Let him try. Besides, Chloe is one of ours, and we take care of our own. Right?”
My smile is weak. “Yeah, I suppose.”
“You’ll figure this out.
We all believe that.”
“What if your faith is misplaced, Roy? I can’t guarantee that I can fix what... Willis did.” I almost said, what I did.
He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, there’s no assurance when we wake up each morning that we’ll live through the day. I know you’ll do your best. So does Chloe. That is all anyone can ask. Don’t take it all on your shoulders, Mel. We’re all here to carry the load.”
Maybe we’re not as far removed from the Martians as I imagined. At least, Chambers and the others aren’t. I’m another case altogether.
Or am I?
Did I learn from my fuck-up? None of the crew batted an eyelash when I told them the full story. Even when I pointed out the danger we’re courting, not one of them hesitated to offer help.
I don’t humble easily—a character flaw I should, perhaps, work on. Requiem’s crew pulling together like this is nothing I’ve experienced. My relationship with Owen was the only time when something similar happened.
Schmaltz approaches, an unlit stogie clenched between his teeth.
“Will you ever actually smoke that thing?” I ask.
He plucks it from his lips to examine. “Naw, these things can kill ya.”
“Then why?”
“Because,” says Chambers, “it keeps him from running his mouth nonstop.”
Unsure if the captain is joking, I look at Schmaltz, who shrugs. “Everything is set up, Doc,” he says in an abrupt redirection from a topic he obviously doesn’t want discussed. “What next?”
Taking his hint, I make a mental note to quiz him about it later.
“That’s all I need for now, Schmaltzy. You and the others can go back to the ship.”
He goes to wrangle the lads, and I turn to Chambers. “There’s nothing for you to do here, either.”
He stares at Chloe’s cryotherapy tube before he replies. “I’ll hang out if you don’t mind. You might need an assistant or something.”
“Roy, I’m sorry if this is indelicate, but is something going on between you two?”
“What? Chloe? Mel, she’s ten years younger than me. Besides, she isn’t inclined to that kind of arrangement, remember?”
