Toxic (70 page)

"Whoever you are, I'm listening."

"Psipili koro jirifara toli," he received in return.

The slang way of presenting oneself in Lynian translated as "What's up, my man?"

He was stunned. Earth was the last place in the Three Galaxies where he would have expected to hear that voice again.

T
he same musky smell that Jave had let off on the cargo ship tickled her nostrils. Elaine observed the out of proportion hand that the alien was offering her as a greeting with fascination. Jool, Jave... Was there some sort of family link between them?

"I think that this is the custom on your world," he said with a stiff accent.

Hindered by her mask, the nurse contented herself with returning the gesture without a word. The cold skin surprised her and touching it was almost silky, like a mousse. Lichen, she thought, looking at his hands. With her thumb, she touched the ends of his finger in tiny circles.

"I'm sorry," Jool said, "for the discomfort of wearing the respirator. Our bodies prefer a higher level of carbon dioxide which, on the contrary, is toxic to your species."

She remembered that Jave wore a sort of nose piece over his nasal vents.

"A level which also has harmful effects on your planetary ecosystem," he continued. "That being said, it's not the end of the world. Being locked up has its advantages."

To his right, behind a rectangular window with a double pane, she noticed the reassuring presence of Jon and Richardson. A small distance behind them Hector was flanked by goons, his eyes so wide open that they seemed like they were going to pop out of their sockets. The Colombian seemed like he was in a state of shock. She, herself, felt lost, upset by the creature and by the sudden turn of events. She had prepared to die tonight. Wasn't that the fate reserved for traitors?

"Is there a problem with the oxygen flow?"

Elaine shook her head.

"Uh... no. None. I was wondering why I'm here in front of you."

"But that's obvious."

Jool put the communication device down on the table. The ball rolled before coming to a stop.

"When they discovered this on you, your friends intended to kill you, which was clearly the logical way of doing things from their point of view. I convinced them that you could be useful to me."

Once again, an alien was rescuing her from certain death. If she was counting correctly, this was now the fourth time she had been saved
in extremis
. Her debt to these creatures was growing. Elaine refrained from giving him any thanks. Nothing indicated that her fate would take a turn for the better after this meeting.

"What do you want?" she managed to articulate, her throat dry.

"I know who your contact is. A Lynian who put his talent in the service of unscrupulous reptilian mercenaries, a dubious career choice, to say the least."

Reptilians? Was he referring to another race? The information upset her. How many species were there among them?

"You're talking about Jave, I suppose."

"Yes. I know him well enough to understand why he entrusted you with this object, but not well enough to guess what he is plotting. Maybe you can help me... how do you say it? Ah, yes, shine some light on things? I need to know what he told you and what he expects from you."

All of this seemed confusing and disturbing to her. Elaine shook her head and closed her eyes. "He claims that he wants to save us. Are you telling me that he was lying?"

"To tell the truth, I don't know which side the emissary is on and that's something that I need to find out as soon as possible. Many lives depend on it, but I imagine that you already know that."

Jool pointed to a chair on the other side of the table.

"I would like to hear your story. We have the time. If you need, we can bring you a bottle of oxygen to replace the one you're wearing."

Hector couldn't believe his eyes or his ears.

For the first time, he could see one of those
hijos de puta
outside of their damned armor, in flesh and bone. Well, he told himself, maybe they didn't have bones in reality. Loudspeakers projected Elaine's words. The nurse spoke with a tired voice, evoking the trials that they had overcome together. He wondered what had happened to the others, even though he didn't give them much chance of surviving. The Colombian touched his dirty bandage under the harsh stare of his neighbor, who was a good head taller than him.

He also wondered about the fate - or was it destiny - which had once again put the nurse in his path right when he thought that the way back to his country was clear. God proved to have a strange sense of humor.

Maybe He was punishing him for having fled, for having abandoned the group.

All of these considerations aside, seeing her alive had given him a sort of warmth, a comfort that he hadn't felt for a long time. The feeling that you get when you see an old friend again. Not a spouse nor a lover: a friend.

Around him, the guys from the oil rig listened attentively to each word spat out by the loudspeakers. Their boss pondered some of the words, especially when Elaine talked about the attack on the camp.

The trafficker easily made the connection with what he had seen from his boat that infamous night. One detail struck him. The one called Jon clenched his fists. He seemed on the point of exploding. Richardson had a look of contempt to him.

Hector understood: the nurse had fed them what they wanted to hear up until this point and now they were discovering the truth. Or rather, a censored version of certain elements. He smiled. At no time did he hear her talk about Dewei.Elaine was planning on protecting the Asian whatever the cost. She was keeping her leverage for later. That sure was like the
chica
.

"I confirmed the presence of the radio and computer to him," she admitted.

"What else does he know?"

Elaine hesitated. On one hand, she didn't have a lot to lose. With her lies exposed in plain daylight, Jon and his friends weren't going to give her a fresh start.

"That we are at Site A."

The information caused a nervous reaction, to say the least, she imagined. The alien's nasal vents opened and he let off a sort of light wheeze, like a hoarse whistle. He gave a hand signal to the men who were following the conversation on the other side of the glass. Richardson nodded and turned towards his underlings. One of the behemoths disappeared in the crowd.

"Jave wants to save us," she then claimed. "He spoke of the antidote, and said that there was a way to stop the virus."

Had the creature lied to her?

"Did he specify that he works for a combinate, a commercial company that sells human products?"

Elaine frowned. "I didn't get that, no. What does that mean?"

"Where we come from, some races like your flesh, notably your finger bones. The antidote that they are looking for will allow them to reestablish the market value of your species."

As a reaction to that revelation, Elaine's hands stirred and her fingers bent. An electrical current ran over her skin when the image of an immense heap of rotting fingers formed in her mind.

"No, no," she shook her head. "He promised to help us!"

The confusion and horrible doubts took over her. In a complete disarray, she turned around and questioned the Colombian with her gaze through the window.

"What have I done?"

She turned back towards the alien and to his gray eyes and smooth, expressionless face, which was so difficult to read.

"Call him. You'll see that I'm not lying," she said, pointing to the motionless sphere.

"A clarification that seems necessary to me, in fact."

Dan scrutinized the facade dotted with fifty caliber bullets. Beside him, the hexatube minigun let off white billows of smoke. The Reverend wore a satisfied smile.

"Nice shooting."

"I think they've had enough. We're going to nab them now."

The spiritual leader agreed silently. Nobody could hold up under such a deluge of fire and steel. Even if there were survivors, they must be dazed or pissing their pants, crouching in a corner.

The loyal lieutenant gave his orders out loud to the two goons who now made up his troop. Living dead were still wandering around the building, despite the slaughter that had decimated the horde. It was a good idea to keep his guard up and to kill those that were lagging behind.

Several explosions resounded while Dan was crossing the bridge. His men started their task. They had moved the truck back to clear the access. The colossus glanced quickly from the corner of his eye at the nasty-looking water where the creatures were grunting. Stuck in the moat, they didn't constitute a threat. It was useless to waste ammo, Dan thought.

The premises mixed the building codes of a prison and fortress. It stopped people from coming in as much as from getting out. Thanks to his ingenuity, he had demonstrated that the first of those rules had failed. Dan hoped that the bastards that had killed his men were still buried in the villa, trapped by the second rule. They hadn't seen anybody get past the fence; therefore, that could only be the case. A look of satisfaction, that of victory, lit up his face as he set foot on the patio accompanied by the Reverend. The latter crushed a half-gnawed putrid arm under the soles of his shoes. Once of his comrades, who had gone on recon, stepped over the railing of the exploded window.

"They aren't there. We only found a concrete slab, not even their bodies."

"Impossible," Dan exclaimed suddenly.

"Come and see for yourself, boss."

The loyal lieutenant explored the villa-bunker, swearing upon entering and leaving each room. The butt of his M16 broke a vase, which had miraculously passed between the bullets.

"Fuck! Where are they?"

A
s a medical specialist, a non-fighting function and therefore secondary among the mercenaries, the Säzkari transmitted his needs through the internal communication system. When they were urgent, he was able to address the Primark directly with his missives, but he rarely left his quarters to bring them to their recipient directly. The opposite was also true: the troopers rarely adventured into his domain, with the exception of the Lynian. When that happened, there were exceptional - and tragic - circumstances, such as the death of one of their own. In reality, the majority of missions only required a simple nurse to program the auto-surgeon in charge of repairing wounds and getting the warriors back on their feet.

Working on a species from beyond the Collective and which was
a fortiori
non-documented required precise skills and experience with studies and sometimes very exotic field research techniques. Those were qualities sought out on the market and for which Naakrit had hired him for a high price. A part of the success of the operation on Earth depended on his scales, the Primark had reminded him several times before the invasion.

Following Jave's advice, the reptilian doctor had gone himself rather than sending his request via the network.

"That will back it up," the emissary had affirmed insistently, faced with his skepticism.

While he was at it, he had given him advice as to how to formulate his request.

"Most of all, don't talk to him about the antidote, otherwise he will hassle you to obtain results. That's a sensitive subject and it's too risky to bring it up. I'm hoping to preserve a certain level of discretion and room to maneuver. Never mention the possibility of resurrecting humans, as that doesn't interest him. The Primark wants a sellable product, you understand?"

The Lynian had known Naakrit and his moods for long enough. Jave showed himself to be skilled at detecting the true motivations hidden under the most sealed shells. The doctor knew something. As planned, he had requested an interview and then had joined his superior.

"I need to carry out experiments on the ground to confirm results," he admitted in the operations room.

The Primark got up from his command chair to bring him aside.

"Out of the question. I need all my soldiers and we are understaffed."

"It may be possible to make advances in solving the problem posed by the virus. I would like to carry out a complete study on living humans and if possible, in their natural environment. An urban center and a small team would do the trick."