Project U.L.F. (5 page)

What would Mannheim do with that information? Again the thought came back to haunt him. He wouldn’t send a team of trappers. No, he wouldn’t be that stupid. That was professional suicide. More to the point, what
could
he do with that information? If he sent any craft to the planet then the people in the know would not accept coincidence as a valid argument—he
would
be found out. The information was useless to Mannheim. He could do nothing. The realization eased Leonardson’s mind a little. Perhaps, this time, he was leading Mannheim on a wild goose chase to a dead end. He liked that idea.

There was a rap at the door and a young man walked in. “First order of the day, sir,” he said, placing a small chip into Leonardson’s hand with a smile. Leonardson looked at it, his brow furrowing. “Er…memo…sir” said the other man, with the smile again, although this time not quite so convincing.

“Oh right, thanks. Sorry, Corporal, I was miles away.”

“That’s okay, sir. It’s early.” The original smile appeared again before the man’s head disappeared behind the door. “Have a nice day, sir,” came the call as he sauntered away down the corridor.”

“Yeah, right,” Leonardson muttered. The bubbles on his coffee spiraled out of control and crashed into the side of his cup. He knew exactly what that felt like.

CHAPTER

3

“So let me get this straight. You want me to head up an away team. Right?”

“Exactly,” Mannheim enthused, pointing a stubby digit in Wyatt’s direction, the drink held in his hand sloshing precariously.

“But why me? I head the division. I have plenty of work here at the zoo.”

Mannheim let out a short chuckle and turned to look out of the window, his back to Wyatt.

“Why, always why? Well, since you ask, I’ll at least answer your question.” He turned and began to pace slowly along the wall of glass.

“You may not be aware that five months from now is the one hundredth anniversary of the occasion when Chicago Zoo became the Interplanetary Zoological Park as you and I know it. Myself and the other directors on the board thought this deserved some kind of…event. At present the shape and form of this event…” He etched quotation marks in the air with his fingers to emphasize the word, “…are undecided.” Mannheim stopped walking, as if this revelation had bothered him slightly, before continuing. “But we did decide on one thing. We decided we would send an away team on a mission and have them scheduled to return slap-bang in the middle of the celebrations.” He turned to look at Wyatt. Whatever response he was looking for, he did not see it on Wyatt’s face.

“Don’t you see?” he implored, his hand stretched forward, palm upward as if his vision sat upon it in broad view. “We unload the new acquisitions right in front of the paying public. It would be the most extraordinary thing most of them will ever have seen. Think of it, can you imagine how privileged these people will feel, knowing that they are one of the first to lay eyes on these magnificent and strange animals? They’d pay for that alone.”

“It’s a bit gimmicky, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is! People thrive on gimmicks. Gimmicks break up the normality of their otherwise dull existence. They are an essential part of memories. Tell me that’s not true.”

Wyatt thought on Mannheim’s comments for a few seconds, spinning his chair back and forth casually.

“What about the animals? They can’t be put on show immediately. They need to be studied and given time to acclimatize and we need to identify those that have special needs.”

“Wyatt, Wyatt, I think you misunderstand me. We’re not displaying these animals immediately. We will follow the normal procedures for transferring animals from the transport vehicle to the holding pens, it’s just that the public will be allowed to see this aspect of our work for the first time.”

“But…”

Mannheim silenced him with a raised hand. “I know what you’re thinking. Yes, there will have to be slight modifications. We’re already drawing up plans for the runs from the transport to the pens to be changed to a transparent strengthened polycomposite instead of the reinforced steel fiber runs we have now. This will allow everyone to see the animals as they pass
and
protect the public. Yes, we’ve thought of that. But I’m diverging from the point here. The point is I’m offering you the opportunity to be involved in all of this. Why you, you ask? Why you?” Mannheim threw his arms up in the air, “Who else am I going to offer this to but the man who heads up the whole division for unidentified life form acquirement. It’s a big event and I want the best man on the job and, quite simply, that man is you. What do you say?”

Wyatt sat silent for a moment, his elbow on the arm of his chair and his chin clasped thoughtfully between thumb and forefinger. He thought until the silence in the room became oppressive. Eventually he spoke, “Well, you flatter me greatly, and it really is a generous offer…”

“Well if it’s generous, then take it,” Mannheim interrupted, “Surely, someone who does not take up a generous offer is a fool. I thought you’d jump at it. Think of it, Wyatt, your chance to play a major role in the celebrations, no, in the history, of the IZP!”

It seemed that Mannheim read his mind because he quickly added, “Oh, don’t worry about your work. I know you have a lot of responsibilities and it may be difficult to find someone who can do your job as competently as you, but if it takes two, even three people to cover you while you’re gone, we’ll do it. We’re a big organization, we’ll take care of it.” He sighed, “Still, if you don’t want it, I’m sure there are plenty of others whom I could ask who would like the job.”

“Can I think on it?”

“Of course. Of course.” Mannheim chuckled again, “Heavens, I don’t expect you to give me an answer on the spot. It’s a big decision and I appreciate that, but we want the mission off as soon as possible. The location, as I’m sure you’ll appreciate, is rather distant and traveling time will be about a month for the round trip. We want the mission underway in about two weeks. I think ‘sleep on it’ is the term I’d use.” Mannheim smiled, a huge predatory grin in appreciation of his own witticism. “Think on it over the weekend and let me know what you decide. Now, unless you have any other questions you wish me to address, I think that is all I have to say.”

Mannheim spread his arms wide and gestured towards the door. Their meeting was quite clearly concluded. Wyatt rose and was escorted to the exit by the other man. As he stepped out through the doorway, Mannheim spoke again, “I do hope you give this careful consideration, Wyatt. It’s a big opportunity for you.”

Wyatt nodded, “Yeah, thanks.” The last thing he saw as the door slid shut behind him was Mannheim’s face sporting the Cheshire cat grin again.

*
  
*
  
*
  
*
  
*

Mannheim stood staring at the blank back of the door for a long time after Wyatt had left. The grin had gone from his face almost immediately after the door had closed, as if the passing of the door had physically wiped it off.

He had always thought that Wyatt’s habit of not offering his hand to be shaken was most rude, rebellious even, but for once he was glad of it. Both his palms were cold and clammy with sweat.
Have I overdone it?
he thought.
Was I too pushy? Too insistent?
Sales never were his forte.

He replayed the conversation over and over in his mind, looking for errors in his technique, a flaw that would give the game away. He could think of none. It was not knowing what Wyatt was going to do that bothered him. He had laid his cards on the table, played his hand, but Wyatt was holding his close to his chest. Watching, waiting, thinking.

He has to do it, he
has
to,
Mannheim told himself. He strode back to his desk and punched in a number on his telelink keypad. There were calls and arrangements to be made.

*
  
*
  
*
  
*
  
*

After Wyatt left Mannheim’s office he wandered off down the flight of steps that spiraled down inside Reptile Mountain until he reached its end and stepped out through the door he found there.
How fitting that Mannheim’s office should be at the very heart of Reptile Mountain,
he thought. Mannheim’s office was in fact there because the position gave the best view over the rest of the zoo, but it was not the first time that the irony of the arrangement had occurred to him. But was that really fair? Sure, there was no love lost between Wyatt and Mannheim, but then, Wyatt very rarely liked anyone in a senior management position, almost by definition. If it weren’t Mannheim then it would be the next man.

Mannheim had always been straight with him, whatever their differences. When he had asked Wyatt to head Project U.L.F., he had told him there would be risks and he had said that he could not specify exactly what those risks would be. That was true. Perhaps Wyatt wanted someone to be held responsible for the deaths during those first U.L.F. expeditions, and he saw Mannheim as that person. But the truth was that all of the people involved in Project U.L.F. had the risks explained to them and they had all gone into the team freely, fully understanding the dangers they would be exposing themselves to. Even so, it didn’t feel right to Wyatt that some of these people, his friends, should have died. In retrospect, it was ludicrous to imagine that the equipment they had then could cope with the creatures they were going to face. Someone should pay, even if it was only for that lack of foresight.

The door closed behind him, sealing the cavity in the column that housed the staircase leading to the offices high above. Wyatt stepped off the rim of concrete he found himself on, and set off on the path that led across the swamp in front of him. As he neared its end he spotted the back of one of the two Puglions, spined and scaly, breaking the surface of the stagnant water and prepared himself. On passing it, the Puglion leapt out of the water to snap at him, moving its twelve-foot length with alarming speed, and Wyatt, already expecting this, was a little surprised at the swiftness and the ferocity of the attack. Suddenly, much to his relief, blue sparks flew and the creature was repelled, falling back into the swamp with a splash. At least the safety shield still worked. He found it difficult to put his faith in something he could not see. When he reached the end of the path he ran a swipe card through a unit mounted on the wall opposite him. He turned and watched as the path slowly descended into the water until it was out of sight. Now the swamp dominated the huge dome-shaped room save for the visitors’ walkway that ran its circumference and upon which Wyatt now stood. He turned and headed for the exit, the clomping of his boots on the floor breaking the silence. The first of the day’s visitors would be arriving soon and there were still plenty of things to be done.

*
  
*
  
*
  
*
  
*

The rest of Wyatt’s day was uneventful. He spent most of it in his office sifting through dozens of administrative chips and filling out forms. He hated the bureaucracy; it stopped him from doing what he considered to be his real job, that of planning and budgeting for his department, training the new U.L.F. recruits, and organizing the away teams.

As much as he liked the challenges and responsibilities that his position imparted, Wyatt missed the excitement of trapping and the camaraderie of working in an away team. Numerous times throughout the day he had caught himself daydreaming, staring into space, thinking about Mannheim’s offer. He would not decide today. It was a big decision to make.

*
  
*
  
*
  
*
  
*

It was Wednesday of the following week when Wyatt finally called to accept the offer. Mannheim’s face appeared on the telelink. On seeing Wyatt he brandished his smile again. “Ah Wyatt, I was just thinking about you. You’ll be pleased to know that nearly all the arrangements for the expedition we discussed have been finalized. All we need now is to hear your decision—I assume that’s the reason you’re calling.”

“Yeah, it was. I’d like to be the team leader if the offer still stands.”

“Excellent. Excellent. Of course the offer still stands. As I said, nearly everything has been arranged. The expedition is scheduled to leave late next week, so you have time to make whatever arrangements you feel are necessary. Oh, and Wyatt, don’t bother coming in to work next week, we’ll take care of everything at this end. All you need do is take the last shuttle up to the moon-base on Wednesday evening and Robert will meet you and brief you once you arrive. Do you have any other questions?”

Wyatt was somewhat taken aback by Mannheim’s news. “Er…no, I guess not.”

“Good. Well, if you think of anything that you want to discuss between now and then, you know where I am. Otherwise, I guess the next time we’ll be speaking is when you return in a few months. Good luck with the trip.” Mannheim was about to hang up but he stopped and added, “Congratulations, Wyatt, I knew I could count on you.” His image folded to a horizontal white line and then was gone.