BENEATH - A Novel (13 page)
Authors: Jeremy Robinson
"Is it just me," Peterson said, "or do you swoon every time we're together?"
Connelly pulled away from Peterson's protective arm. She wasn't sure how to respond. He was obviously joking, but she couldn't help but think he really wanted to know. She knew that men thought about sex…or women…all the time, but up here, in orbit around Europa, just a meteorite's throw from Jupiter, and having just survived a completely new extraterrestrial phenomenon, she couldn't fathom Peterson had enough room in his mind for romantic thoughts.
She then realized that since the floating light bulbs nearly killed them all, Peterson had crossed
her
mind once or twice, as well. Her face began to flush, but she put on a straight face and decided to ignore his comment.
"I take it you're lost too?" she said.
Peterson looked down at his map and shook his head. "This thing is useless."
Connelly smiled.
"How long you been at it?" Peterson asked.
Connelly rolled her head around on her shoulder, feeling two of her vertebrate pop. "Too long."
"Well then," Peterson said, as he switched off his map and pocketed it, "I say we explore. It's not like we can get any more lost than we already are, and the best way to learn something is by experience. We'll know our way around this beast in a few hours."
Connelly raised a single eyebrow. His skepticism was clear.
Peterson lowered his gaze. "C'mon. We have two hours before debrief…"
Connelly's expression didn't change. In truth, she was doing all she could to maintain it. She didn't want to show him an iota of above average interest.
"I won't hit on you," he said. "I swear."
A smile crept onto Connelly's face. She reached down, turned her map off and put it in the pocket of her gray jumpsuit.
"That's the spirit," he said.
They continued walking together. It was five minutes before either of them spoke again.
Connelly wracked her brain for a conversation piece. The uncomfortable silence drove her crazy. Anything work related seemed contrived and all personal subjects felt too…personal. She forgot all her concerns when a door label caught her attention. "What's that?" she asked.
"What?"
Connelly pointed her index finger to the text that caught her attention. "Bio-Lab."
Peterson walked to the door, which was labeled, BIO-LAB in bright yellow. "I think I know. They had something like it on the roof of the GEC building."
He pushed a button to the side of the door and it whooshed open. He motioned for Connelly to enter first. "After you."
Connelly wasn't sure they should be entering a laboratory she knew nothing about without the captain's consent, but the idea of returning to the never ending maze of hallways seemed torturous in comparison. She walked through the door and stood still as she took in the view.
The first twenty-five feet of the hundred foot wide room appeared to be a solid metal platform. Along the walls were long black lab tables. Atop each table were several odd looking machines, with solid black, octagonal shaped bases and a glass top that looked like a giant upside-down test tube. They ranged in size from six inches tall to almost six feet. The larger ones sat on the floor in clusters of five. Inside each of the glass cylinders were plants of various species.
But the strange glass containers weren't what captured her attention the most. Connelly thought the room must be as deep as a football field and maybe a hundred feet tall. From the platform to the back wall, which was barely visible, and covering all one hundred feet of width was a jungle. Scores of plant species grew in real soil and reached toward the ceiling. There were fruit trees, a large garden and flowers; brilliant beds of roses, daffodils, tulips and others were in full bloom. Connelly took a deep breath and smiled as the aromatic air swept through her nostrils. "What is this place?"
"A greenhouse. It provides a portion of our food and air." Peterson bent down and picked a deep red rose. He handed it to Connelly. "Amazing, isn't it?"
Connelly took the rose and placed its petals against her nose. She drew in a deep breath and felt her muscles relax.
"How does it smell?" a firm, feminine voice asked.
Connelly turned around and saw Choi standing in the doorway.
She wasn't sure if they were going to be in trouble for invading the bio-lab, but she decided it would be best to play it cool "Wonderful," she said. "But why are there flowers on board?"
Connelly offered the rose to Choi, who took it, smelled it and then handed it back. "Psychological studies have revealed that flowers have a calming effect on people. Long term space missions can be…stressful."
"That's an understatement," Peterson said.
Choi nodded. "Perhaps you'd like a bouquet for your room?"
Peterson chuckled.
Connelly was feeling more comfortable now. Choi seemed to have no problem with them being in the bio-lab. "What are these?" she asked, motioning to the test tube-like devices.
"Plant incubators." Choi walked to one of the larger units. "Watch."
Choi reached into a small pouch that sat atop the nearest table. She pulled out a single, tiny object that Connelly thought looked like a seed. After twisting off the glass top, Choi pushed the seed into the soil that filled the black base of the plant incubator. She replaced the top and flipped a switch on its side.
A mist sprayed into the glass tube, clouding the interior of the incubator. Connelly moved closer, trying to make out what, if anything, was happening inside the contraption. The glass slowly began to clear, like a windshield defrosting.
Peterson leaned in close next to Connelly. "I don't see anything."
"Just wait," Choi said.
The glass cleared and Connelly thought she saw the soil at the bottom twitch. She focused on the soil and saw it again. "It's moving," she said, her voice almost a whisper.
"Where?" Peterson asked.
Connelly pointed to the soil without a word. They watched, spellbound, as a small green sprout emerged from the soil and twisted upwards, growing at an incredible rate. After twenty seconds the sprout had reached three feet in height and had began to grow small branches and leaves. After another twenty seconds the four foot plant was pushing against the glass.
With her face almost mashed against the glass, Connelly gazed at the plant as the first signs of small, green tomatoes began to grow at the end of the nearest branch. Choi reached over and turned the machine off.
"We let the fruit begin to grow, but it has to finish at its normal speed or it spoils," Choi said.
"How…" Connelly stood up slowly. "How did you do that?"
"The plant's atoms are sped up, which causes a chain reaction in the plant's chemistry and cells. I'm not entirely familiar with the science behind them, but as you've seen, they basically make vegetation grow at an accelerated rate."
Connelly shook her head in disbelief.
Choi's expression changed as she looked from Connelly to Peterson and then back again. Connelly became suddenly self aware. She glanced at Peterson and noticed he was standing comfortably close to her. Their hands were almost touching.
"What are you two doing here, anyway?" Choi said, her tone suspicious. Choi looked at her watch. "Debrief is in ten minutes."
A look of shock appeared on Peterson's face. "We got lost."
Choi squinted at them, making no effort to hide her disbelief. "Then you can follow me to the conference room." Choi moved past them and strode to the door.
Peterson leaned over to Connelly. "It was fun while it lasted," he whispered.
Connelly crossed her arms. "You promised."
"So I lied," Peterson said. "Look, in my line of work, when you find something worthwhile, you go after it."
Connelly frowned playfully. "You're comparing me to dirt now?"
Peterson chuckled as he headed for the door. He turned to Connelly looking over his shoulder. "Dirt, no. A nice diorite maybe."
"A diorite," Connelly said, keeping pace behind Peterson, "doesn't sound too bad. What is it?"
"A rock."
Connelly laughed, but then sucked in her breath, not wanting Choi to hear her. As she exited the bio-lab, she glanced back and thought about how much the world around her was changing. Space exploration, extraterrestrial phenomenon, plant incubators. It seemed everything in the solar system was evolving around her.
CHAPTER 9 -- DEPLOYMENT
There were two things that Choi couldn't stand.
The first: infectious diseases, which she had spent the better part of her adult life battling on the job for the CDC, and personally after being diagnosed with Hepatitis C, which she contracted from her mother at birth—a fact that was kept from her employers at the CDC, and now, at the GEC.
The second was almost as bad: professional adults getting goo-goo eyes for each other, which she had spent all her life avoiding. She could feel the energy from Peterson and Connelly like it was a static charge in the air, and it made her cringe. To Choi, it seemed that the only human diseases that had no cure were lust, desire, love, and a slew of other emotions that made things of importance seem insignificant.
As she led Peterson and Connelly to the conference room from the bio-lab, she listened in on their conversations. Most topics seemed innocent enough, astrogeology, oceanography and extremophiles, but after joining up with the GEC, Choi spent enough time around crush-struck scientists to know that talking science and using big words was the equivalent of talking dirty to the layman. She'd attempted to be patient with them in the bio-lab, even amiable, but her patience was wearing thin.
Ever since making the move from the Center for Disease Control and Prevention, Choi had discovered a new world of annoyances. Six years ago an outbreak of a mutated common flu swept across the globe. Science predicted common illnesses would reemerge as modern plagues, but mankind had ignored the warnings, bathing in antibacterial soaps, popping antibiotics whenever a sore throat struck, and taking vaccines for every ailment imaginable. The resulting super germs were nearly unstoppable and humanity's immune systems—adapted to having antibiotics and vaccines do all the work—were weaker then a newborn baby's fifty years ago. But of all the new strains of germs, bacteria and viruses that cropped up around 2015, the flu was the worst.
The original outbreak started in
Choi's work led to the development of a vaccine, which was mass produced and administered globally, saving countless lives. But the result, while a success for Choi, had been a stunning failure for the human race—two million people died from the flu in 2015.
Choi had dedicated her life to stopping illness before it got out of control. She'd become renowned in her field and a celebrity face at the CDC. It was almost on a daily basis that she was approached by a newspaper, magazine, television news show; even the FBI and CIA had tried to recruit her. But the strangest offer she received was from the GEC. She had laughed when Nancy Heintz introduced herself over the phone.
"What does the Global Exploration Corporation need with an infectious disease specialist?" Choi said with a note of sarcasm.
Choi remembered Director Heintz's next words perfectly. They had changed her life. "I am well aware of your achievements Dr. Choi, and I commend your work. The world is a safer place because of you. But new threats arrive at our doorstep every day. The Global Exploration Corporation's work places our staff at the outer reaches of the global frontier. Did you know that over seventy-five percent of new infectious diseases are first encountered by GEC employees?"
Choi had heard of several cases involving the GEC, but had never totaled them, and would have never guessed the percentage to be so high. Her interest was immediately piqued, though still reserved.
"But the GEC doesn't have the resources I would need to—"
"Dr. Choi, you will have
all
the resources you require. Even more than the CDC provides."
Choi was speechless. She'd been made the best offer anyone had yet to make. And it was from an organization that had nothing to do with infectious disease. Or did they? Choi's mind spun through the possibilities.
"What aren't you telling me?" Choi said.
"Tell me now, or the answer is no."