Scuzzworms (33 page)

Post and Jamison watched him go and then turned their attention back to Imelda.  After consulting her mediunit they started more transfusions and added pain medications, following decontamination procedures wordlessly. 

Imelda, exhausted, retired to her bedroom, falling asleep as the medications took effect.   While she slept, Jamison and Post talked quietly for a long time.

So here she sat in the hallway, half dead, waiting for the mallet of justice to smash her.  Imelda grimaced as the massive door swung open.  The past had seemed pretty awful at the time.  The present was no improvement.

Imelda entered the huge, richly furnished auditorium of the CHA ship slowly.  The aisle leading down to the center stage seemed to stretch for a mile. 

Her heart pounded in her chest.  The loud sound of blood pulsing in her ears made her feel trapped in the spacesuit again.

Trefarbe was not present, she noted with relief.  The group of CHA investigators crowded in the middle, and Caldwell sat with a sweating, white-faced Jinks on the right.  A recording secretary sat on the left, his expression stoic.

An uncomfortable looking chair loomed forlornly in front of the group, awaiting her arrival.
              Imelda considered requesting that her attorney be present but felt that the six-week wait for one to arrive might be longer than her currently estimated life span.  Feeling queasy, she finally reached the chair, sitting down gratefully.

“Hello, Dr. Imelda.  Thank you for agreeing to assist us in this investigation.” 

Not that she had any choice.  She nodded.  “Glad to be of service.”

“Allow me to introduce us.  I am District Supervisor Degloss, and my colleagues are Field supervisor Schlatts, Senior Advisor Ingills, Senior...” Imelda could not follow the entire introduction; her head was hurting too much.  All of the titles sounded exalted.

She nodded again politely and saved the info on her PC. She could research their credentials later, if there was a later.

“I am sure that you are aware of the reason for our visit here.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The woman smiled understandingly.  She really had a wonderful smile, intelligent, friendly, and even likable.  Incredibly dangerous.

“What we would like you to do for us is quite simple.  As best you can, please tell us in your own words the exact events of the accident and your subsequent findings.  We have already reviewed the official recordings and prior reports, and are aware of your current efforts.  We would appreciate your personal observations.”

Imelda cleared her throat.  “Yes, ma’am.”  She looked around at her audience.  They were frighteningly attentive.  “It has been over a standard year since the accident, so I hope you don’t mind if I go slowly with this.  Much has happened in the interim, and I want to be sure that I proceed sequentially.”

“Take your time.  We don’t plan to leave until our questions are answered adequately.”  They must plan on staying a very long time then, thought Imelda.

“Yes, ma’am.  I understand.”  The politeness was beginning to strain her resources, but Imelda m
aintained a pleasant expression that was only slightly stressed.  She drew a deep breath.

“As you can see by the official record, we embarked on a specimen collecting groundbase operation on the recorded date.  I was aware of potential difficulty in collecting fluid and tissue samples from such a large creature, and so specifically requested an experienced field team.”  Imelda then proceeded to detail her request to abort the trip and Trefarbe’s refusal to allow it.  Surprisingly, there were no questions from the group.

She continued on to detail the sterilization procedure and precautions as well as the studies that had been designed to monitor the planetary surface for any evidence of significant contamination.  She outlined in exhausting detail the findings of the studies and how rapidly they had been able to progress the research program.  Finally, she told of the birth of the human fetuses and of her evidence for the continued spread of human cells on the planet.  Imelda paused often, but other than staring at her intently, her audience did not interrupt her.

Hesitantly, she then discussed the recent slowing in the human birth rate. “As you can see from this graph, the borgettes in these locations have ceased in production of suspected fetal cells.  The probable fetuses detected via
ultrasound have ceased to grow and appear to be resorbing.

“Studies of these specimens have shown no rise in antibody titers or of change in the immune cells of the borgettes to account for these changes.  The suspecte
d tumors are definitely smaller and appear necrotic in some individuals.”

She stopped.  Their stares continued.  She supposed that now was the time to launch into her big confessional, tell of her hideous acts, submit to punishment and be done with it.  Firming her jaw, she took a deep breath.

“Dr. Imelda, I want to thank you for your excellent discussion.”  Degloss smiled triumphantly at her colleagues.  “At last we find the person responsible for what has been happening here.”

Her chest deflating, Imelda’s heart sunk to her toes.  Yes, she was responsible, for all of it.  It was all her goddamn fault.  She had mucked it all up with her own two hands, and now had doubled the risk for Iago IV with a second contamination.  The committee probably already knew what she had done if they had really checked her records carefully, and she could kiss her beloved research goodbye.

She wondered how long she would live in prison, assuming she survived the trip home of course.  She should have grabbed the pills from Post and swallowed them anyway.

The group was loudly conferring among themselves.  Degloss turned her attention back to Imelda.  “We were wondering who was responsible for the timely response to the contamination,
particularly in view of the usual hesitation of low level administrative personnel to commit to such an operation.  The measures that were instituted are surprisingly appropriate, showing a good deal of foresight and imagination.  The other personnel that we have interviewed have been rather strikingly uninformed and we are pleased that you were able to show such initiative in the absence of your superiors.”

Imelda stared at the woman in astonishment.

“Dr. Caldwell has been very helpful in explaining some of the events, of course, and we thank him.  I’m sure that he would have shown the same foresight had he been here at the time of the critical events.”

Imelda blinked.  Was the woman joking?

“From your report, I gather that you were unable to document a reason for the recent slowdown in the contamination rate on Iago IV?”

Imelda’s mouth refused to frame an answer for the question immediately.

“Dr. Caldwell divulged to us a bit of information that may shed some light on the situation.”

Imelda glanced at him sharply.  What had he been up to?

“We are aware of your viral carrier state and of your recent decision to forego further treatment.  Upon review of your last survey missions down to the surface, we discovered a problem with one of the seals on your suit.  It is quite possible that there could have been a leak, another contamination.  We suspect your suit may have been damaged during the original accident and the leak not detected.   

“Although usual precautions should have made the leak inconsequential, we hypothesize that your virus may have escaped to the surface of Iago IV via infected epithelial cells.  We have strong evidence for the presence of the virus on the surface, but there is even more impressive data that such an occurrence has been quite fortuitous.”

Imelda, stunned, sat mute during this dissertation. Anxious and angry at the same time, she frowned as Degloss finished, deciding to disagree, admit her willful act and damn the consequences.

Degloss stared her straight in the eye.  “Dr. Imelda, we have reviewed your past record in detail.  Back on Syned you are a legend among the biologists there.  Your recent Pauling Award was exceedingly well deserved.”

Imelda, who had opened her mouth to protest, paused.  What Pauling Award?  She hadn’t received any awards.

“Many people were very displeased with Biotech when they were unable to notify you in time to fly in for the ceremony.  A letter is hardly the way such awards should be received.”

Oh.  She still hadn’t opened her mail.  No wonder everyone had been so confoundedly understanding with her since the last ship from home had arrived.  It must have been in the news.  Funny nobody mentioned it.  Then again, she hadn’t allowed anyone to speak to her either. Was this why she had needed to delete her e-mails recently?

“Although the official record did not so state, we were suspicious that Director Trefarbe may have shown some lack of skill in handling this situation and have traced the computer error in assignments to her invalid command.  She is to be reprimanded accordingly.”

Suddenly the entire ordeal was almost worth it.  Trefarbe was going to burn!  Imelda’s heart lifted as it hadn’t in a long time.

“You will be placed under intensive medical care in an attempt to resuscitate you from the viral infection.  My understanding is that the infection is severe and may be past intervention.  Although you ceased therapy intentionally, we do not believe your case beyond hope.  Dr. Hiebass discussed with us your suicidal ideations and feels that you may be amenable to therapy, especially in light of the change in the situation on Iago IV.”

She was amazed all over again.  She thought Fish had given up on her a long time ago.

“We will release to him your complete medical records now, of course, since his personality matrix of you has been inaccurate in the past.”  Degloss paused, her expression worried, almost stricken.   “Dr. Imelda, we know what you have tried to do here.”

There was a double meaning in her gaze.  Imelda wondered if they did indeed know what she had done.

“I am very sorry.  Your prognosis is not good, not nearly as good as we would want it to be.  We won’t be calling for your testimony further and would appreciate it if you would obtain our permission before releasing any details of this discussion to outside parties.”

Imelda sat frozen, thinking things over.  The others in the room were already standing up and stretching, conversing in low tones.

Caldwell
walked over and whispered, “Shut up, Imelda.”

Imelda bridled, nearly raising a protest, when Degloss also walked up.

Degloss took her hand gently, squeezing it.  Glancing at Caldwell, she also whispered, “Shut up, Doctor Imelda.”

Imelda glared at both of them in outrage.  She then noticed the faint smiles on the faces of the other members of the panel and realized that they all very well knew what she had done.

Collusion.  Collusion in hiding the evidence, in protecting the criminal from justice.  She should report every one of them to somebody.

Except that she just didn’t care.  Her punishment was already racing through her veins, destroying her cells, slowly building up toxins that would ultimately kill her.  What did she care about human justice?  The human legal system never had been completely fair, anyway.

She rose unsteadily and found her way out of the room, frowning, without a word.

#

She didn’t go immediately back to her apartment, too empty without Igor and too full with Post.  Instead, she traversed the hallways until she reached the area housing her workstation.  Entering it, she slipped wraithlike past Camille, Kellogg, and Post who were all working silently, and sat at her station once more.

Her skin seemed too red to her after the transfusion.  She had become used to its pallor, associating the pallor with her real self slowly fading out of existence.  She could see no point in doing anything at the workstation now but knew she was going to miss being here.

Post, damn him.  Why did he have to be here?  She wanted to be away from him and his lure of a happier existence.  Damn him and his teddy bear hug.  Not that he had ever hugged her, but she knew that he would have a teddy bear hug.  Bastards like him had to have teddy bear hugs.

She turned the console on with a twist.  The screen brightened to show her where she had been the last time she had shut down.  Reluctantly, she allowed her mind to drift back to the train of thought that had been interrupted, forgetting about Degloss and antiviral therapy, the waiting Fish, and....

Trefarbe burst through the door, a wild look in her eye.  The three biologists sitting near the door looked up with a start.  Imelda barely flinched, not interested in Trefarbe any longer.  She had been taken off her list of problems and so was inconsequential.

Trefarbe, however, did not agree with that assessment.  “Imelda, you fool!  What did you tell them?  Didn’t you listen to what I said?  The problem is under control!  We have done exactly what we were supposed to do and everything is going to be fine!  The only mistake that was made was yours!  What did you tell them?”

Imelda looked up at Trefarbe curiously.  What did she think that she had told them?  Only the one thing that Trefarbe was afraid of.  “The truth,” she said.

“Oh no you did not!  You only told them what you wanted them to hear!  You made it sound like you were some sort of saint, making all the right decisions, saving the cute little animals from the bad corporation!  You have been a troublemaker ever since you came here, twisting Dr. Caldwell’s mind, making me look like a fool!

“I have tried to run a tight ship!  You science idiots have no idea what money is, how hard it is to make an operation like this stay within budget!  Don’t you realize how close we are to being shut down?  Caldwell left in order to beg the company to rescind an order cutting back on the research staff!  I was only trying to keep us efficient until he came back, not sabotage the company as you claimed!  I am not supposed to know your business, but I do know mine!”