Transient Echoes (10 page)

But the eye of the void only answered, “Come and see.”

******

Ortego Reconstruction Outpost

April 22, 2350

Mei opened her eyes
to see an old man staring down at her, scratching his cheek. She tried to move but felt a tug on her left arm. It was an I.V.

“Good morning, Doctor Curie. I apologize for intruding on you like this, but it was urgent I speak with you. My name is Christopher Tabata. I’m a physician.”

Mei thought for a minute. She’d heard the name before. But from where? She felt so dizzy. “Where did you come from?”

“Salamander. One of your people sent a letter asking me to take a look at the animal you captured. I replied directly to you several days ago.”

“Oh,” she whispered, remembering the kitobora. “Right, sorry.” She tried to sit up in the bed, but her arms were too weak and she collapsed. John rushed to her side and helped her to a sitting position. She moaned and it hurt. “Are you the one who did this?” she asked, nodding at the I.V. tube coming out of her arm.

“I’m assisting in your recovery, yes.”

She coughed and swallowed. “Thanks, but you can take it out now. I need to talk to my staff.”

“Actually, they’ve already brought me up to speed with what’s going on. I can fill you in now if you’d prefer.”

Mei stared at him, incredulously. Who did this person think he was? “They’re my people. I need to speak with them myself.”

Tabata held up his hand. “Before you do, let me brief you on your condition, will you?”

“Fine, but please hurry.”

He nodded. “I came here two days ago. You’ve been asleep for three. Since then, I’ve been monitoring your vitals consistently every few hours. As you may have guessed, you’re improving, but it will take time to fully recover. You need to take it easy.”

Three days? She could hardly believe it.

“You probably guessed it was radiation poisoning. But the suits didn’t fail.”

“What do you mean? If it wasn’t the suits, then how—”

“Because it’s increasing, Doctor Curie. Your team figured it out yesterday. The radiation levels are rising steadily, and it won’t be long before they overtake this entire area.”

Mei’s eyes widened. “How’s that possible?”

“One of your assistants—Miss Mitchell I believe—she’s working on it as we speak.”

Sophie? She was capable enough, but she couldn’t do this on her own. She needed Mei’s help. “Has she made any progress?”

“Not enough, I’m afraid. She’s tracking the radiation spikes, but she doesn’t know why they’re happening or where they’re coming from.”

Mei shot a glance at John, who was sitting in the back of the tent, staying uncharacteristically silent. “John, I need you to do something.”

“What’s up?” he asked.

“I’m sure Travis is still sick, but tell him he needs to show Zoe how to use the flippies to set up some sensors in the irradiated areas. We need as much data as possible if we’re going to solve this.”

John looked at the floor.

“John?”

“Doctor Curie,” interrupted Tabata. “I’m afraid I have some unfortunate news. The man you’re asking about—Travis Scott? I’m sorry to tell you he passed away.”

A sudden wave of panic swept over her, a cold chill in her arms and chest. “I don’t understand. I got him back here right away. I’m not that sick. How could he—in such a short amount of time—it’s not…”

John shook his head. “You’re not the same, Mei. You know you aren’t.”

“But…” Her voice trailed off. She didn’t know what to say. Travis was dead. He was part of her team. How could this happen?

“Doctor Curie, I’d like to run a few more tests on you, if you don’t mind.”

Her eyes darted around the tent. She had to do something.

“Doctor Curie,” repeated Tabata.

She looked at him. “What?” she snapped.

“Please, I need to examine you. It is important.”

She cringed, tightening her fists. “Why? Travis is dead. What good will it do?”

“You survived because—”

“Because of what I am,” she said.

Tabata nodded. “Yes. It may help us in some way. At the very least it will allow me to understand how to treat you more effectively.”

Her eyes drifted to her lap. There was a long pause before she answered. “Fine. Do whatever you want. But as soon as you’re done, I’m going back to work.”

“I’d advise taking it slow,” he said. “If not, you might—”

She snapped around to look at him. “If those radiation levels don’t stop rising, this project is over. You said it yourself. It won’t take long for it to reach us all the way out here. I didn’t work three years to get here only to give up and go home.” She motioned to John. “Tell the others to be ready. We’ll meet in a few hours.”

“You won’t be able to leave your bed for at least a few more days,” said Tabata.

She didn’t bother answering. “Forget the conference room. Bring them here instead. We need to get ahead of this thing before it gets worse.”

“You got it,” said John. He squeezed her hand, got to his feet, and left.

“Doctor, I’m sorry to be a pain, but would you mind if I slept for a while?” she asked.

“I was about to suggest you rest,” he said, standing. “I’ll be back to check on you in an hour.” He grabbed his bag, a gray satchel he carried on his shoulder, and left the tent.

Mei turned on her side and stared vacantly at the tent wall beside the bed. Her arm itched, and she scratched it.

Thoughts and images ran through her like an old movie. She pictured the look on Travis’ face when she’d found him, how she dragged him to the truck and watched as he lay there, motionless.

She continued to scratch her arm, harder and harder, until there was a sudden pinch of pain, and she flinched. A thin line of blood streamed out of the cut, gliding along her arm and into the bed. She pressed the cut against the blanket and tried to ignore the irritating itch as it ran along her arm, chest, and finally her scalp, like an insect moving below her epidermis, wriggling and squirming, gnawing from within. She pressed her fingers to the side of her head to scratch, but stopped when several stands of hair fell onto the bed. Mei stared at them in silence. She tugged her hair, barely feeling the pressure. Threads fluttered through the air and onto the sheet. In her palm she held the bulk of it.

A clump so large it could fill a child’s hand.

Ch
ap
ter
7

Ortego Outpost File Logs

Play Audio File 340

Recorded: April 22, 2350

THISTLE
: I’ll need some time with this, Colonel.

ROSS
: How long?

THISTLE
: A few weeks. Curie’s team is hard at work coming up with viable solutions, though to be honest, I’m more concerned about her than I am this outpost.

ROSS
: How is she?

THISTLE
: The girl is something else. She’s crazy strong, and I don’t mean her body. That kid’s got more drive in her than half of Central combined. If she weren’t already famous, she’d find a way to get there eventually.

ROSS
: You won’t hear any disagreements from me.

THISTLE
: Finn says she’s improving lightning fast. Doctor Tabata from Salamander Outpost arrived a few days ago, and he’s been looking after her. We already knew those kids had tough immune systems and some top notch regenerative abilities, but I don’t think anyone expected this. According to Tabata, the radiation she was exposed to should have killed her.

ROSS
: You mean like it did the Scott boy.

THISTLE
: Travis Scott, yes, ma’am. He died in minutes. Curie on the other hand…her fortitude is damned impressive.

ROSS
: Those children are full of surprises.

THISTLE
: We wouldn’t be able to survive on the surface without them. Their blood’s like a cure all. There’s no telling what else we can learn from them. Sorta makes you wonder if we should’ve made more of them.

ROSS
: You think so, do you? Let’s not forget the reality behind their conception, Captain. All those other children...

THISTLE
: Apologies, ma’am. I meant no disrespect.

ROSS
: Relax. I won’t pretend those children haven’t helped us. We’d still be locked underground if it weren’t for them. I’m in no denial about that…but what Archer and Bishop did to those kids was unforgiveable.

THISTLE
: Still, it brought us closer than we’ve been in two hundred years.

ROSS
: Yes. They were right, in a way. Maybe in a century or two, professors and historians can sit around debating whether those decisions were justified. Who knows? It’s a lot easier to judge these things in hindsight.

THISTLE
: So you believe you made the right call by shutting down the Amber Project?

ROSS
: Make no mistake, Captain. I don’t doubt my actions for a second. My only regret was not doing it sooner. Maybe if I had, the other children we lost from those godawful experiments might still be alive.

End Audio File

Unknown

April 22, 2350

Terry awoke to the
sounds of laughter.

He opened his eyes and saw four men towering over him, their rifles cradled in their arms, snickering as he lay against a tree.

“Naav oc ec,” said the one with the red and blond hair.

“Ec er ra r’jonn!” laughed another, who had a hair color that was something between teal and brown. There was a large scar along his neck.

“Fi jyrc wi o jycolc,” said the redhead.

There were two others standing close. One with solid black hair, grinning slightly, and another which Terry recognized as the purple-eyed man from before.

The one with the scar tapped Terry’s leg with the barrel of his gun. “Yg!” he yelled.

Terry held up his hands.

“Yg!” the man repeated.

The redhead pointed at Terry and raised his finger, motioning to the sky. “Yg.” He aimed his rifle at Terry’s face. “Yg.”

Yg
, thought Terry. Did that mean
up
? He got to his feet, keeping his arms raised.

The scarred guy laughed. “Fi’r o jasal!”

The man with the purple eyes motioned to the others. The two who had been laughing grabbed Terry and pulled his hands around his back while the third kept a weapon on him. They wrapped his wrists in some kind of rope and pushed him a few steps forward. “Pa,” said the redhead.

“What?” asked Terry. Did
pa
mean
move
or
go
? “I don’t—”

“Pa, pa, pa!” shouted the man. He pushed him again, and Terry stumbled forward.

“Okay!
Pa
. I got it. Relax.”

The man chuckled.

Terry walked beside one with the rest behind him. He had to find a way out of this. He could probably fight them, maybe run for it. Given his superior strength and speed, he’d have a fair shot at getting away. The guns were the real problem. If they’d been carrying spears, he might be able to dodge a few of those, but not bullets. He wasn’t invincible. Before they got to wherever it was they were going, he’d have to find a low risk opportunity to escape. If the chance never came, well…he didn’t come halfway across the universe to be somebody else’s prisoner.

He gave them names to pass the time. The first three were easy. Red, Scar, and Purple Eyes. The fourth was a little more difficult, however.

Call him Charlie
, suggested Janice, and so it was decided.

They led him through the woods toward the field he passed on the way here. There was still water on the grass, and it smelled like nature, clean and filthy. It was hard to believe they could track him in this mess.

Terry stomped through the muddy countryside, and his feet sank into the mud with every step. It felt like he was being pulled into the dirt…as though he were being swallowed.

The image of the room with the ring flashed in his mind, and suddenly he remembered the dream. No, the nightmare. The desolate wasteland, empty cities, the rotting earth pulling him under…and the void. The Eye.

Come and see.

Red shoved Terry’s back, and he nearly stumbled. “Horcis!” he snapped. “Horcis!”

“Okay, man,” said Terry. “Whatever horcis means.”

Red yelled more gibberish and poked Terry hard in the side with his gun.

He didn’t flinch. The pain wasn’t much of a bother. It was more annoying than anything. He couldn’t help but wonder what it might feel like if he wasn’t genetically modified. Would it have broken a bone or two?

The strangers led him through the field toward the south. Terry had fled from the east, crossing the field to the western forest, but apparently the meadow went on for quite a distance, separating the two forests like a river of grass.

After a few hours, the group came upon a large stone where they stopped to sit and eat. Scar lifted a sack and distributed various pieces of what Terry assumed must be vegetables. They also lit a small fire and roasted an animal. The corpse reminded him of a fox, except it was bald and had no eyes.

He sat against the rock, which towered over them all. It was more of a boulder, fat and out of place. The black haired man, whose name was now Charlie, unbound Terry’s hands, then tossed him a piece of meat. “Ioc,” he said, putting his fingers to his own mouth.

Terry nodded.
Ioc
, he thought, repeating the word in his head.
Eat
.

So he did, chewing the flesh in his mouth and ignoring the dry, flavorless taste of the meat. When he was done, they gave him a sack made from animal skin. “Qselv.”
Drink.

The hour passed as the group replenished their calories. They sat together, laughing and occasionally pointing at Terry throughout the conversation. All the while, the man with the white hair remained silent, sitting peacefully behind the others, observing the scene, and occasionally chewing on a piece of grass. His purple eyes blinked, and he watched Terry with a curious and unfiltered gaze.