Sanctuary Falling (12 page)

“I’ll be honest. I have done some pretty thorough scans, but they haven’t answered all of my questions. I just want to use some really sensitive stuff so I can figure you out,” Tina answered beginning to lead the way down the hall Annette had just returned from.

“What kind of questions?” Annette was getting a sinking feeling.

“Just what you are for one. Most scans we’ve run up to now have left us with pretty vague results. For all the differences physically, and psychokinetically, there really isn’t that many genetic differences between a human and a briaunti, for example.
 
Most scanners run genetic comparisons to mainline briaunti families.
 
The trouble is you don’t match any of those, but you do have isolated traits which are most common in briaunti. What I want to do is run a special scan which will identify whether or not your cells have or are susceptible to infection by eugenoplasts.”

Annette nodded slowly, for the most part following Tina’s words, and their implications. Her stomach chose to growl loudly. “So why couldn’t I have lunch?”

Tina grinned, “Because, the cells of your upper digestive system will be most telling. If you had eaten recently, it might alter the results of the test. Personally I want a definitive answer. Don’t worry, lunch will be forthcoming.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Yllera woke up disoriented, and in pain. Everything hurt, down to the cellular level. That was part of the disorientation. She could feel each of her cells individually, could almost hear them screaming they were a part of her. Then from the outside she felt a strange pressure on her mind, one that told her she wasn’t alone. Since she couldn’t quiet her cells enough to remember where she was, the presence frightened her.
 
The light she could see through her eyelids was too bright, but, increasingly afraid, she opened them slowly anyway. The cells in her eyes quieted and pulled together sending a blurry picture of the clinic to her brain.
 
That accessed the memory of her return to Sanctuary. Relieved, Yllera let out a sigh.

“Ah, so the patient is awake,” Tina said coming into view.

 
Yllera jumped slightly at the interrupted silence, vaguely disturbed by the idea Tina had been looming so near, almost like she was waiting for Yllera. “Do you have time to just stand around waiting on me to wake up?” Yllera grumped.

“No, I haven’t been waiting, just expecting. I had the sensors set to call me when your consciousness rose to a certain level. I’ve only been standing here a couple of minutes,” Tina responded and began waving a scanner over Yllera, “How are you feeling?”

Yllera assessed her own condition, she felt a little better than when she first awoke, but stiff and numb in places from lying too long on the exam table in the clinic. “Couldn’t you have moved me to a bed?”

Tina shook her head with a slight frown, “I didn’t want to risk it. There just isn’t enough information on your physiology. All my texts and references say that moving an Agurian during a metamorphosis can be dangerous.
 
It’s been so long since an Agurian has metamorphosed that I didn’t dare contradict them.”

“All I have to say is ouch. Is it safe to move me to a bed now?” Yllera managed to sit, but not without consequence. The movement disturbed the balance in her inner ear, she almost fell off the table and barfed. Fortunately, Tina was prepared for both contingencies. Tina slapped a supportive hand around Yllera’s shoulder and injected her with a powerful anti-motion sickness drug.

“Yeah, when your stomach returns to a seated position,” Tina answered keeping a close eye out for flying digestive debris.

Yllera grunted back at her, not agreeing or disagreeing, just letting Tina know she hadn’t barfed yet. Slowly Yllera managed to adapt, mostly by holding her head very still. That stillness gave her time to think. “What about Angela, and my report. I was supposed to make a final report on my placement. She was also going to give me my next assignment.”

Tina’s usually unreadable face held and ambiguously restrained expression, “Trust me on this, your next assignment is the least of your worries,” Yllera’s hopes didn’t exactly sink when she heard Tina’s words. She’d been expecting bad news. The real problem is that Tina’s words offered Yllera no encouragement.
 
Tina seemed to notice Yllera’s deflated expectations and rushed to cheer her, “I do have some good news for you though. I must congratulate you, you are the first Agurian I’ve ever met who may someday be able to shape shift. During your metamorphosis you body began all the changes necessary for you to physically mimic people. Your morphic gland is fully formed and functional. Just before you went under your body tried to genetically mimic me. That used to be the hard part. According to my Everett monitors your psychokinetic abilities have been boosted as well.”

Yllera tried to unknot her thoughts from her nausea long enough to understand what Tina meant, but couldn’t, “Okay.”

Tina frowned, “There is one thing, if you feel strange in any way you really need to contact me immediately. It could be very serious. Now let’s see about getting you moved to a more comfortable room.” Tina started for the exam room door, before she reached it the door chime pinged.
 
“Who is it?”

“Me, Tina, I was hoping to check on your patient,” Angela’s voice came in loud and clear over the intercom.

Tina smiled back at Yllera, “Yllera, do you feel up to it?”

That was a good question. Yllera let it bounce around inside her head. The Chief factor had come for a visit. It would be bad form to fire someone that was gravely ill, but it wasn’t as though her metamorphosis had caused it. Yllera had felt it coming long before now. She had screwed up royally. What did she really have to gain from waiting to see the chief? After all the chief could’ve changed her mind out of pity or out of a sense of Yllera’s changed circumstances. Tina had mentioned a psychokinetic boost. Maybe Angela would give her a second chance now that Yllera wouldn’t have to rely as heavily on factor gear.
 
What if. . . or maybe . . . but. . . Yllera stopped herself. She was beginning to make herself dizzy. “Sure, why not,” She found herself saying.

Angela entered the room, every bit the commanding presence Yllera had come to expect.
 
Angela was so together, every thought and every hair exactly in place. Her eyes didn’t wander, they scanned the room purposefully then focused on Yllera, “So, how are you feeling?”

Again, Yllera thought it a very good question. Aside from a nagging nauseous spinning in the center of her skull, and the still lingering sore stiffness, Yllera felt almost as good as if someone had beaten her up. Every cell in her body still wanted her conscious attention, and she really wasn’t up to facing a career in the wonderful world of secretarial services or early childhood education.
 
“I guess I feel all right,” Yllera finally answered, “considering.”

A smile flickered across Angela’s face, “That bad, well I think I have some news that will cheer you up some. Despite what you’ve probably been thinking, based on your last written report, your career as a factor isn’t over. To the contrary, given your recent experience, I’ve decided on a new assignment for you. When you finally recover, and when Tina releases you from medical restriction. I’ll give you more details. For now all I have to say is that you will be assigned to Jelaria in the position of secondary observer. Being Agurian, I feel you might be our best chance of forming amicable relations with the Agurian population there.”

Yllera was speechless.
 
She didn’t know how to react. Assignment as a secondary factor, that was a distinct promotion. How could Angela promote her after she nearly screwed up so badly? Then it occurred to her, Angela mentioned it was because she was Agurian. Her promotion probably had everything to do with her metamorphosis, and the new abilities Tina said she had gained. After all of her work, all she really needed to do to get ahead was go through a metamorphosis. Yllera almost felt insulted by the promotion.

Stewing in her own contemplations, it took Yllera a moment before she noticed Angela still stood in front of her. Yllera realized she should say something about the promotion. “Secondary Factor?”

Angela laughed, “Yeah, and good luck.” Angela turned and chuckled as she left. Yllera watched her leave. Auburn hair swished from side to side across her back as Angela disappeared into the hallway.

“Well, now that’s over, are you ready to move to your room?” Tina asked drawing Yllera’s attention back to their purpose prior to the chief’s visit.

“Yeah, I really could use a rest,” Yllera answered.

Tina smiled, “I’m not in the least bit surprised.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Chapter 4

No, Really!

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Meetings last night ran late. Morning arrived before Angela was ready. For once Daniel had awoken and dressed before her. She sensed his presence faintly on the edges of her awareness. He was eating breakfast, and thinking of cooking some for her. She chuckled at the thought, he wasn’t a very good cook, he’d given himself mild food poisoning more than once trying to learn. She felt a wave of warmth from him as he realized she was awake. They passed hugs from mind to mind through the ether.

Angela tried to dwell in them moment, but as her mind geared up to full consciousness, the pressing matters of the day began to drill into her thoughts. There was so much to be done. She felt Daniel’s thoughts drift away, back to the food he was eating. Decades together had forged within him a protective detachment from Angela’s urgent sense of duty. She didn’t resent it, through their intimate tie she had learned his mind and soul hadn’t been built to survive it. Initially her sense of all-inclusive responsibility had infected him with equal vigor. In the end, it almost destroyed everything she loved about him. Better that he pulled back into his flippant self denial.
 

The pressure of time began to build in the back of Angela’s mind, so much to do, so little time to do it in. She was used to the pressure, and like every morning it was what eventually drove her from her bed. Today it drove her faster. No matter how late her night had been last night, her inner self still berated for having slept in. People waited on her.

Angela climbed from her bed, an exertion of mind over the inertia of a body at rest. Her feet slowly swung from their place to the chilly tile floor. Then her toes hunted out her slippers in self defense. The cold of the floor wasn’t a surprise. The environment of Sanctuary was carefully controlled. Instead the cold floor was an intentional shock to her system, planned to drive off the last vestiges of sleep. Age and apathy had long since thwarted that purpose with the slippers, but hadn’t quite driven her to change the floor temperature. Her feet buried themselves in the fluffy plush of her slippers and began to drag the rest of her towards the bathroom.

First stop was the toilet. She made her customary deposits and went to the sink to wash, robotically.
 
Hands, squeaky clean, she began her morning ablutions, brushing, flossing and rinsing teeth almost compulsively. Spitting into the sink, a strange thought occurred to her. She did the same thing every day. Almost the same way every time. It wasn’t just her morning grooming that her thoughts encompassed. Though the details of reports might change or the schedule of meetings and other duties, it was all the same. She woke up in the morning got out of bed and purposely ignored herself, instead becoming Angela the Chief. She stared into the face in the mirror.

It had been so long since Angela
 
had registered that there was a face in the mirror that she almost didn’t recognize it. Curiosity overcame her. In front of her was a woman, green eyes and hair that was beginning to forget that it was supposed to be auburn. Uncountable strands of filamentous silver formed an exclusive group nested amongst the reddish brown. When did she begin to go gray? She examined the lock of white hair, then turned her eyes back to the face. The small lines and creases of her remembered self had almost become wrinkles. Wasn’t she too young to have wrinkles? Angela counted years and cringed when she lost that count past seventy. However, for a briaunti, that wasn’t really old, at least not gray hair old. Her mother’s hair was still mostly red the last time she saw her, and her mother was at least ten times her age.

With eyes closed against the lies of the mirror, Angela began to lather soap over her face. A snickering half-thought trotted through her mind. She was old enough that she should start using better skin care products to, as the TV commercials of her childhood on earth would say, “reduce the signs of aging.” She sloshed water on her face, and eyes still closed, found a towel to wipe stinging residual soap from her eyes. It was one thing to feel ancient to her very bones, but how dare the mirror even suggest she was old?