Species II (21 page)

15

“I
f what you told me the last time we were in this laboratory is true, Dr. Baker, then the people of this planet could already be in dire danger. That was two days ago and Lennox doesn’t even have a lead on Patrick Ross—no one has the first suggestion as to where to find this man, the body count is rising, and more women turn up missing every day. We’re wasting valuable time and Lennox hasn’t been able to make headway.”

I am not a violent woman, thought Laura Baker as she endured Colonel Carter Burgess’s speech, but if I could drop this man into a pond full of piranhas, I would. Him
and
his “Pentagon Three” cohorts, who had also decided to grace her lab with their presence this morning. Aloud she said, “Maybe that’s because you and your high-powered committee here won’t let him use the media to reach the public. If he could do that—”

Burgess’s cold gaze stopped her in mid-sentence. “We’ve had this conversation before. As I said, we’re wasting time.”

“Dr. Baker,” said one of the generals, “you mentioned during our previous visit that you believed Eve has telepathic abilities.” To Laura, the man’s round face looked innocent and bland, completely untrustworthy in a way she couldn’t really identify.

“Well . . . yes, there’s some indication of that.” Why did she suddenly have a very bad feeling about where this conversation was headed?

“Can we send her after Patrick Ross?” Of course the question came from the second of the group—these three strange men seemed to run in the same unspoken cycle. Maybe they were all connected somehow, little governmental cyborgs on the same transmission frequency.

Laura blinked at him, then turned her head and saw Eve watching them from her habitat. The outside walls of the alien woman’s living space were quartz glass and nearly thirty yards away from where she and Burgess’s nasty little entourage were talking, and all the intercoms were off. But was it possible Eve could hear what they were saying anyway?

Who knew?

Laura had no choice but to answer. “It would be complete foolishness to take Eve out of this controlled atmosphere. You must remember that before Colonel Burgess contaminated everything by coming in here with Press, Eve’s only knowledge of the outside world came from television. This included contact with males. From a psychological point of view, her human side would tend to view what she sees on the screen as a fantasy—that is, something that doesn’t really exist. Despite the unfortunate previous intrusion of Colonel Burgess and Press Lennox and the presence of yourselves in here today, Eve has never physically
touched
a man. To show her the rest of the world and therefore allow her to do so is potentially lethal.”

One of the men started to say something, but Laura cut him off. “There is also the very real danger of her escaping. If this were to happen, we would have two aliens to deal with instead of one. We already know that the aliens have a biological imperative to reproduce. You can bet that they’ll also have an inborn drive to find each other to do so.” She gestured at the data scrolling continuously along the monitor screens on the main console. “It’s quite clear that human DNA cannot and will not be the victor in any sort of cellular match against the alien DNA. An infant born as the result of Eve mating with Patrick Ross could very well end up with all the human DNA completely repressed—a ‘pure’ alien, if you will. The resulting offspring might be unstoppable.”

“I don’t believe you answered my question, Dr. Baker,” said the second general quietly. His eyes suddenly reminded her of a snake’s—small and flat, and completely devoid of warmth. “Can we send her after Patrick Ross?”

Laura gritted her teeth. “In so many words, sir, I believe I did. The answer to your question is
no.
We cannot ‘send’ Eve after Patrick Ross, because she cannot be allowed outside the walls of this laboratory. To release her would be so hazardous as to be utterly out of the question.”

Silence while they considered this, then Burgess asked the question that Laura had been dreading:

“Can she tell us where he is without leaving the facility?”

Laura bit her bottom lip, but she had to tell them the truth; any cursory glance at her notes on the computer would show a fabrication instantly. “We have seen a . . . spiking in her bio-rhythms that could possibly indicate the existence of a rudimentary connection to something we can’t identify,” she admitted. “There isn’t any way to tell for sure because half of her alien genes are dormant, intentionally repressed by genetic manipulation when we created her. Whatever connection she may have right now isn’t controllable or deliberate. Tracking another person—or another alien—would be out of her league.”

“Dormant is nothing but a technical term for asleep,” Colonel Burgess said levelly. “I suggest we simply wake them up. I assume you have the means to do so.”

A question, not a statement, and again Laura had no alternative but to be truthful. “We do have certain equipment,” she said with reluctance. “The lab cyclotron could be reprogrammed to bombard her with radiation. In all probability, this would stimulate the alien genes enough to revive them. But . . .”

“What?” The third general, right on cue.

“Well, for heaven’s sake,” she exploded. “Isn’t it obvious? Doing this will reawaken in Eve everything we’ve worked so hard to suppress—the alien side of her, incredible physical strength, her mating drive. We repressed all of these impulses so that we could maintain control over an alien life-form that is completely capable of besting us. Did any of you actually
hear
what I told you just a few seconds ago?” Laura gestured angrily at the female life-form still standing at the glass of her enclosure at the other end of the massive room, still watching them with extreme interest. “Colonel Burgess, have you ever stopped to think that when she ‘wakes up,’ as you so handily put it, she might just be a wee bit disturbed by the fact that we’ve kept her imprisoned in a damned glass box for her entire life?”

For a moment no one spoke; then Burgess and the first two men looked to the third member of their group. “We appreciate your concern, Dr. Baker,” said the third man. His voice was quiet, but suddenly Laura knew who truly had the say-so in this room. “But the results in this matter—the opportunity to locate and eliminate Patrick Ross—are worth the risk.” His sharp eyes scanned the laboratory, recording everything, no doubt already planning the upgrades. “We’ll tighten security, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” Laura mimicked. She slammed her clipboard on the countertop. “You know this isn’t a laboratory animal we’re talking about here, and the process you’re demanding isn’t just an unpleasant little prick in the arm with a syringe. This process is irreversible. This life-form is half human and the radiation is going to
hurt.”
Frustration made her dig her fingers into her arms. “She has human feelings—”

“Please,” interrupted Colonel Burgess. “Spare us the ‘alien rights’ agenda, Dr. Baker. Use the . . . what did you call it? The cyclotron. Do whatever it takes.”

She glared at him, wanting very badly to slap that lop-eyed, power-happy leer right off his face. “And if I refuse?”

Burgess lifted his chin knowingly. “That is obviously your prerogative as a civilian employee, Dr. Baker. You know, of course, that there are other staff members in the facility who have skills more or less equivalent to yours.” The colonel spun and stepped into place behind his three colleagues, who were already headed for the exit. He didn’t bother to turn around to say his last words:

“Either way, Dr. Baker, it’s going to happen. It’s only a matter of who’s in charge of the procedure.”

B
efore Colonel Burgess and Press had come into the laboratory and corrupted the atmosphere, there had been a certain innocence to Eve, a simplicity of thinking that was charming and unexpected in a fully grown woman. That quality had disappeared when Eve had gotten her first scent of a man, and if there was anything left of it at all, buried somewhere deep inside the lovely girl who stood before her now, Laura was convinced that what she was about to do would destroy it forever. What was worse, she, with her degrees and her education and all her damned
science,
didn’t know how to tell Eve what she was about to ask. All she could do was stand in front of Eve and stare at the floor, struggling to find the words.

“It’s all right, Laura. You don’t have to be afraid. I know . . . what they want.” Eve’s face was open and accepting.
Resigned.

How had she known? There was no other way to explain it but that she must have heard every horrid word of that argument between Laura and Burgess and his cronies. “I-I’m sorry. This isn’t at all what I’d intended, but I have no choice.” She touched Eve’s arm, trying somehow to convey her emotions. The skin was warm and pleasant, the effects of whatever had caused her last “spell” long gone.

“I understand,” Eve said, but the words sounded rehearsed, or worse, like something she’d learned from a television soap opera. Her next statement just made that all the more likely. “You have to answer to your superiors.”

“You wouldn’t be agreeing so readily if you knew how painful this is going to be,” Laura said, more harshly than she’d intended. Eve said nothing, and Laura’s voice softened with defeat and regret. “But . . . you’ll save human lives. And I’ll be in charge of the procedure, so I’ll be as careful as possible.”

Eve nodded complacently. “That’s good. And I want to help you find him.”

Laura swallowed and gave the young woman a nod of her own, then hurried out of the habitat and back to the control room to set up the cyclotron. There were so many possible repercussions to doing this, so many things that could go wrong. Even the life-form’s last statement—

“And I want to help you find him.”

—worried Laura, because simply put . . . she was afraid Eve would do exactly that.

“A
re you comfortable?”

An inane but automatic question, and when Eve nodded, Laura checked the straps—wrist, across the upper chest, hips, and ankles—a final time. Uneasiness was running along her spine like a tingle of electricity and her hands were jittery on the buckles. With everything tight, the doctor stepped back and gave it a visual check, hating everything she saw.

The device into which Eve had been fastened looked like a parody of a dentist’s chair, or perhaps the absurdly padded seat of some deviant’s torture mechanism. The whole thing had been designed in white, and combined with the bright overhead lights shining off the glass enclosure—yes, another one—around the cyclotron and Eve’s painfully white medical grown, there was a sort of unearthly radiance coming from this part of the room.

“Yes,” Eve said. She didn’t bother to elaborate.

“All right.” Laura’s voice was halting. “I’m going to power up. You’ll hear a high-pitched sound . . . with your ultra-sensitive hearing, it might even hurt. I’ve set the machine to radiate for ten seconds, then it will shut down. If you can, you should try to keep your eyes shut. I don’t . . . the sensation is probably going to be very much like a huge, sudden sunburn.”

Eve said nothing and Laura realized belatedly that Eve had no idea what a sunburn felt like. She’d never
seen
the sun or felt its warmth. No matter what Eve thought, Laura would never,
ever,
be able to think of this young woman as a laboratory rat. For an instant she hated Carter Burgess and his compatriots more than ever. But if she didn’t do this, Burgess had the power to put someone else in charge; she had no doubt that he’d handpick someone with a level of compassion matching his own, and then what would happen to Eve?

“Are you ready?” Laura asked, feeling even more thwarted. Again, no response. Laura looked up from the controls and saw Eve staring up at the white metal device looming over her as though it were some kind of sanitized metal monster. The female life-form looked small and helpless, in awe of this thing that was about to change her forever. For a heartbreaking moment, Laura wondered if Eve had ever wished she could be fully human. Now she was doomed to go in exactly the opposite direction.

Let’s just get this over with, Laura thought. “Here we go.” She snapped four switches to the
ON
position and turned the control key, then typed in her password when the computer demanded it. For a timeless moment nothing happened, then the screen flashed, giving her one last chance—

RECONFIRM REQUIRED:
B
EGIN
C
YCLOTRON
P
ROCEDURE
N
OW
? N
O
/Y
ES

Laura set her jaw and hit
Y.

Light filled the laboratory, accompanied by a piercing whine that was shockingly loud. Several of the women around the laboratory clapped their hands over their ears instinctively; Laura only stared down at the cyclotron and Eve and wondered what in God’s name it was like to actually be the
target
of the machine that was making this unearthly racket.

Then again, in view of what was happening to Eve, maybe she didn’t have to wonder at all.

The alien woman’s skin was as fresh and unblemished as always . . . on the surface. Beneath it, everything seemed to
wrench
and grow suddenly translucent, as though she were blistering six layers down, cooking from the inside out, right down to the yellow-orange glow that suddenly surrounded her. Laura had garbled thoughts about microwaves and moths cooking in the coils of insect zappers, then a scarlet drop of blood—startling in all that brightness—leaked from the corner of Eve’s left eye and trickled down her cheek. If the device hadn’t cycled itself out and shut down, in an abrupt cessation of function that was exactly the opposite of its start-up operation—Laura’s fingers would have found the emergency shut-off switch.

For a moment, there was absolute silence in the laboratory. Then Eve groaned, her voice several octaves deeper than before and carrying a strange, echoing quality that made the skin along Laura’s neck quiver.

Right on cue, all the normal sounds rushed back in to fill the void. Around the room, people began to talk—