Dawn of Procyon (22 page)

Chapter 43

PSD 29-214: 0306 hours

The world had become a great ball of glue. No matter which way he tried to move his arms, his legs, his head, Landry couldn’t budge. He was like an insect writhing on flypaper. A pathetic little creature caught in the grip of something far stronger.
Something pitiless and hateful
, he thought,
something that enjoyed watching him squirm
—

He came to suddenly, finding that reality was not much better than the dream.

He was sitting in a chair—or
something
—a cluster of charcoal-black resin that had hardened around his arms, his legs, his torso, holding him firmly in place. He was in a room that was lit by the same greeny-yellow glow of the nursery caverns, the walls and ceilings thick with the ubiquitous black tubes he’d seen elsewhere. The room was perhaps a few meters square, at the end of a broad tunnel that fell into darkness a short distance away.

Along the walls of the tunnel, Landry could see more plants growing from the walls. There was also a flattened ridge that protruded horizontally, upon which were a cluster of objects that stood in stark contrast to the blackened surrounds, glinting white and silver in the queer light.
Metal
objects.

The parts from the scout
, Landry thought, allowing himself a brief surge of hope.
They’re here. This is where it’s been taking them.

He couldn’t see the parts well enough to identify them with any kind of surety, but he thought he could see the antenna module. It was
right there
, almost within spitting distance. Now he just had to get himself free, go over there and pick it up, and get out of this place.

Easier said than done
, he thought.

He struggled at his bonds again, wheezing and gasping with effort, but it was no use. They continued to hold firm.

Where are the Argoni?
he wondered.
Are they nearby? Are they watching me struggle? Or have they gone back to their business already?

He glanced around the room again, and then cried out.

There was a creature standing close by.

How had he not noticed that thing before now?

He looked over it with revulsion. It was predominantly light-grey, black in parts, with a thin torso and a flat wedge for a head. It stood about waist high, and its skin was bumpy and irregular, glistening as though it had been smeared in grease. There were no facial features to speak of, other than a black orifice in the top corner, gaping stupidly, ringed with sharp protuberances that might have been teeth. It almost looked like a mutated Venus flytrap. However, he doubted it was a mouth, since it was situated in such an irregular position on the far corner of the wedge, closer to where one might expect to find an ear.

But this isn’t human biology
, Landry thought.

“Hello?” he said after a moment. His voice echoed dully down the tunnel. “What do you want?”

The thing did not move, made no response at all, and Landry realized that it did not have any arms or legs. It was basically a block on the end of a stalk.

He thought of the Argoni dogfighter, how their technology seemed to be entirely organic.

Could this thing be some kind of machine?

Landry tried to sit up and felt a stinging pain on his left wrist. He looked down.

He didn’t cry out on this occasion, but he wanted to. He wanted to open his mouth as far as it would go and just
scream
, but he didn’t. He somehow held it in check.

His hand had been secured, palm up, and there was something on his wrist. No, not on his wrist.
In
his wrist. A patch of blackened tissue with a milky, shiny exterior was embedded in his own flesh, as if it had been grafted there. Dried blood was caked around it, and as he stared at it, he could feel it start to throb with pain.

They’ve operated on me. They’ve
done
something to me.

He struggled to break free again, ignoring the pain in his arm. He was repulsed by what he saw, he felt ill. Violated. He needed to get out of there.

There was a sound in the tunnel, and he looked up to see something moving slowly toward him out of the darkness.

It was the hulking shape of one of the Argoni.

Landry felt that familiar grip of ice around his heart, the same feeling he’d had whenever he’d encountered one of the Toads. The thing lumbered toward him, and Landry was too terrified even to struggle. He just sat there, quaking as it approached.

It stopped before him, its face looming close. Landry looked between the black, chitinous ridges that ran vertically up its visage and saw its cold, dark eyes staring back at him. He saw the scar over its left eye.

This is it. The one that’s been following me.

The Argoni paused there a moment longer, then straightened. It moved over and slid the organic machine—assuming that was what it was—across the floor toward Landry. It made wet sucking sounds as it moved.

Landry licked his lips. They were completely dry. “What do you want with me?” he said hoarsely. “What are you doing?”

The Toad did not look at him. Instead it reached into the grotesque little mouth on the machine and began to slowly extract a thick string of disgusting
stuff
, something that looked like resin, or a glistening strand of snot. As Landry watched, he saw the bony exterior of the Argoni’s wrist drawback, revealing a scaly arm beneath, and then the Argoni lifted a loose flap of skin to expose a section of milky flesh, much like the grafted section on Landry’s wrist.

Ugh . . . no! That’s what they did. They grafted a piece of
them
onto me.

Landry watched in horror as the Argoni attached the resin to the patch of flesh on its wrist. It stuck there like glue. He had the absurd notion that the Argoni had just ‘plugged’ itself into the machine, as if the patch of skin were some kind of interface and the stringy, rubbery resin the cable. Moments later, light began to flicker across the head of the machine, weird patterns that might have even been images, although Landry couldn’t seem to interpret them. They moved too fast and were too random for him to process.

The Argoni stepped across to the wall, the resin stretching out behind it, and rubbed its tentacle-like fingers across the black vines, in short, deliberate motions, like it was kneading a wad of dough. Something seeped outward, a dark, glistening substance that might have been fluid, but which quickly seemed to harden. The Argoni continued to work at it, like an artisan molding hot glass, and when it turned back to Landry, he could see that it had created a sharp cutting or stabbing instrument. A shiv.

Landry wrestled desperately at his bonds again, getting nowhere. “Hey!” he shouted at the Argoni. “Hey, get back! Get
back!
”

The Argoni moved over to him, and he continued to struggle. It bent over the wrist on which the graft had been made, and Landry saw the resin that was holding him in place began to draw back. His arm began to free up.

It can control the resin with its thoughts somehow.

He took a feeble swing at the Argoni, but it brushed the blow aside and forced his arm back down—

—it’s skin is cold, so cold—

—and pressed the patch on its wrist against Landry’s.

Something happened to Landry’s mind. There was an explosion of images, of sensations: hurt, fear, loathing, confusion. There were others that he couldn’t even begin to label. They felt like they weren’t even his, that he was experiencing a reality that wasn’t his own.

He opened his mouth to scream but no sound came out.

The sense of violation he’d felt upon seeing the graft embedded in his wrist now seemed insignificant. The new sensation was a hundred times worse. A thousand. He felt as though the Toad were cracking open his mind, the very essence of him, and digging around inside. Turning him upside down and shaking him by his ankle, seeing what fell out.

With effort, he opened his eyes, saw the patch on his wrist pressing against the counterpart on the wrist of the Argoni. Saw the resin stretching from its other wrist to the machine.

The thing was analyzing him. Acting as an interface to the machine so that it could catalogue the things that were in his head.

He didn’t understand how he knew that with such clarity. He just
did
.

The shiv was still in the Argoni’s other hand, and now it lowered it toward Landry’s exposed arm.

“Wait! Stop!” he shouted.

The shiv bit into the flesh of his forearm, drew blood. Landry screamed again. The shiv twisted.

Agony.

A moment later the shiv was withdrawn, and the Toad stepped back. It had not looked at him once. It had eyes only for the machine. Watching the data pour in, Landry thought. Assessing the result of its actions.

Blood ran freely down Landry’s arm and dripped on the floor. He panted, his face slick with sweat.

The creature had no compassion. No mercy. It was going to do things to him for as long as it wanted. And it would not relent.

He knew that with an awful certainty that filled him with unbridled terror.

Suddenly Landry knew that his hunch earlier had been right. The Toad had wanted him down here. It had wanted him
alive
. It was studying him, trying to find out what made him tick. Uncovering his weaknesses.

Learning about its enemy.

It had been toying with him all along. Heck, the act of stealing the scout’s components had probably just been its way of luring him down here. It knew he would come looking to retrieve them.

If it had tried taking him by force up on the surface, his EVA suit would probably have been ruptured. Maybe it had learned that much when it had killed Gus. Maybe it had even tried to take Gus alive first, and he’d simply been killed in the struggle.

The Argoni put the shiv down on the edge of the machine. Then it reached up to the ceiling, where a slender tube hung loose below the others. It drew the tube downward, and Landry saw that there was a hole in its end. It looked hollow.

Oh, no. What now?

“Stay back!” Landry snarled, writhing ineffectually. “Stay back or I’ll mess you up—”

Something began to dribble from the end of the tube, an acrid yellow liquid, and droplets sizzled as they fell on the floor.

Acid.

The Toad linked wrists once again, and as the droplets fell upon his arm, Landry opened his mouth wide again.

This time, he found his voice.

Landry screamed in agony, and the Argoni watched.

Chapter 44

PSD 29-214: 2255 hours

The Infirmary was not busy in the early hours of morning, although there were still medics and a handful of Marines wandering the corridors. Many of the latter bore the telltale signs of very recent blood augmentations—a “wired” look about the eyes and a spring in their step, like they’d been drinking too much coffee. By contrast, the medical staff seemed too weary to notice Cait, trudging around with their eyes on their omni-devices as they moved from task to task, and she was able to move through the corridors relatively unhindered.

As she neared Fraxa’s room, Cait began to worry that she would find nothing but an empty bed, that the child had been discovered by Cole and taken away for questioning. She wasn’t sure why, but since she had rescued her, Cait felt somehow responsible for Fraxa’s welfare. Perhaps it had simply been the harrowing tale of the girl’s past that had affected her so greatly. In any case, the feeling of protectiveness was almost overwhelming.

When she reached the door, her fears proved to be unfounded. Fraxa was alone in the room, sitting on the side of the bed in a hospital gown with her head down and her dark hair hanging across her face.

“Fraxa?”

The girl looked up suddenly, and Cait saw both relief and surprise in her eyes. “Cait! I didn’t think you were coming back.” She dropped to the floor and took a couple of steps forward, then stopped suddenly.

“What’s wrong?”

Fraxa lifted the gown, and Cait saw the silver bracelet Dr. Nagarkar had placed around her ankle. “I tried to leave before and this thing zapped me. I can’t go any further.”

“It’s okay,” Cait said, stepping over to her and guiding her back toward the bed. “It’s just a precaution.”

“No, it’s not. The medics think I’m one of the bad guys.”

Cait took her by the shoulders. “Listen, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Just tell them the truth, like you told me, and everything will be fine.” Cait wasn’t sure if that was strictly true, but Fraxa seemed placated, climbing back on the bed of her own volition.

“Well, they’re not the ones I need to worry about, anyway. Archer is out there somewhere.”

“No,” Cait said. “That’s what I came here to tell you. Dion Archer is dead.”

The girl’s eyes lit up. “How do you know that?”

“I went back to the breach. Marshal Cole was sniffing around out there, and he showed me a mug shot of Archer. I recognized him from earlier, back when I found you. Archer was exposed to atmosphere. He’s gone.” She placed a hand on Fraxa’s shoulder. “He’s not coming for you. Ever.”

“What about the other two?”

“The same. Was that the whole crew?”

“Yes. There were three of them.”

“Then you’re safe.”

“But I’m still an illegal here. What are they going to do to me?”

“I’ll make sure you’re protected, Fraxa. I promise.”

“I just want to go back to my Grandma. I don’t belong here. I want to go back to Earth.”

“I know. I just—” She was about to say,
I don’t think that’s possible
, but the words lodged in her throat. Instead, she forced herself to smile. “We’re just having rotten days, both of us.”

“Why? What happened to you?”

“Well, it started off okay. I got a new job. A promotion, actually. Things were going great, but then I found that maybe it isn’t going to be as easy as I thought it would be. One of the other Optechs went missing, and then there was the breach, and there’s so much work to do with the Marines leaving in a couple of days.”

Fraxa reached out solemnly and touched her arm. “You have to give a new job three months before you decided you don’t like it, Cait.”

Cait raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“That’s what my mum said, before we left Earth. She said her new job was going to be tough, but that she needed to give it three months to figure things out. She said starting a new job is always rough. You just need to hang in there.”

Cait smiled. “That sounds like good advice. Wish my dad had passed on a few pearls like that.”

“Your dad?”

“Yeah. I don’t get along with him.” Cait paused, wondering if she should take the conversation further. Like before, Fraxa seemed more at ease when Cait was talking, so she decided to keep going. “That’s why I moved all the way out here, to get away from him and his backward ideas.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ever since I was a kid, all I ever wanted to do was get my hands dirty fixing machines. I liked the feel of metal under my fingers, the way every job presented a new problem to solve. It was a challenge for me. But Dad . . . he didn’t like that. He hated the idea that I thought I was good enough to do ‘a man’s job.’ He used to sabotage my studies, my car, my sleep schedule—all to try to get me to fail.” She shook her head. The words were pouring out unbidden now. “He told me I should find an office job somewhere. He’s the most backward person I know. Those kind of ideas went out a hundred years ago. More.”

“Yeah. Even I know that.”

“But he couldn’t admit the truth, that I could never be what he wanted me to be. And when I decided to go in my own direction, he derided me for it. He told me I’d never make it.”

“What happened in the end?”

Cait thought back to the day when she had last seen her father, and some unfamiliar emotions began to bubble through her anger—sadness, regret. This was something she had avoided remembering for a long time, with good reason. After it happened, she’d spent many nights crying herself to sleep and cursing his name.

“It started out as a good day,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. She was surprised at herself, but couldn’t seem to stop, once she’d started. “I’d been hanging around the local workshop for months, running errands and doing every crummy job you could imagine. Draining oil reservoirs and mopping floors, hauling tires out the back for recycling. I had every reason to quit that place, but I stuck at it. And eventually, they made me an apprentice Optech.

“I went running home to tell Dad. I was so excited. He hadn’t known that I’d been working there, but I figured that when he heard that I could do the job, that I’d made a success of it, he would realize that he’d been wrong about me.

“But I was the one who was wrong. He was
enraged
. He flew into a temper like I’d never seen before. He told me that if I wasn’t going to live by his rules, that I could get out. I think he expected me to give in, but I didn’t. Instead, I started carrying my stuff out the door, and he . . .” Cait took a moment to collect herself. “He told me to stay outside. He began throwing my stuff outside after me.”

Fraxa looked up at her sorrowfully. “Did he calm down after a while?”

“I don’t know. I took my things and left. I haven’t seen him since.” With an effort, Cait pushed her father from her mind. “Anyway, the point is, you shouldn’t let anyone else tell you what you can or can’t do.”

Something seemed to occur to Fraxa. “Why are you telling me all of this stuff?”

Cait laughed. “Maybe I just need to get it off my chest. You’re cheaper than hiring a psychiatrist.”

There was movement at the door, and a young male medic appeared with an omni-device in his hands. He scowled when he saw Cait standing next to the bed.

“Who are you?” he said.

Cait got up and moved over to him, taking him by the elbow and leading him back out into the corridor. “I brought this little girl here this morning,” she said, lowering her voice. “She was injured. I just wanted to check on her.” Her eyes dropped to his nametag. “I hope that’s okay, Dr. Welker.”

“I’m afraid it’s not,” Dr. Welker said. “As it turns out, this girl is an illegal.”

“Dr. Nagarkar told me her records were missing. I was hoping that maybe they’d been located by now.”

“They haven’t. We’re keeping her detained until Outpost Control can advise us what should be done.”

“What’s going to happen to her?”

“That’s not up to me to decide, but I imagine they’ll place her in detainment until they figure something out.”

“What?” Cait said, incredulous. She thought of Administrator Barakula’s cold dismissal of Landry’s situation, and wondered if he would apply the same attitude toward Fraxa. “They’re going to lock her up? They can’t do that. She’s not a criminal—”

“That’s not for me to say,” Dr. Welker said. “I’m a medic. I don’t make those kinds of decisions.”

She couldn’t do nothing. Not when the girl’s future was on the line. “Look, I’m happy to take care of her until—”

“You’re going to have to take that up with OC. Now, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You shouldn’t be here.”

Cait was about to protest, but she realized it was futile. The guy wasn’t going to budge, and the last thing she wanted to do was to make a scene. She knew that wouldn’t be good for her, or for Fraxa.

She had to let it go. For now.

“All right. Give me a second.” She walked back to the door. “Fraxa?”

The girl looked miserable. “You’re leaving again.”

“Yes. The medic says you need some rest, and I agree with him. You’ve been through a lot today.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” She smiled sadly. “You didn’t dump me. You came back to see me. That means a lot.”

“Of course I wouldn’t dump you, Fraxa.” She wanted to go and hug the girl, but she was aware of Dr. Welker watching impatiently nearby. “Not in a million years.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll come back and check on you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.” Cait began to move away, but the sound of Fraxa’s voice made her stop. “Cait?”

“What is it?”

“You were right. There
are
good people here. I wish there were more like you.”

Those words should have brought Cait immense pride, but instead something else stirred in her belly—a feeling of shame and guilt all rolled into one. That made her wonder whether she was really deserving of praise such as that. After all, how could she call herself “good” when she’d bought into the apathy of people such as Dodge and Barakula? When she’d been prepared to turn a blind eye to Landry’s plight, despite the obvious parallels to Fraxa’s situation? Wasn’t that the
exact
kind of behavior she’d found so contemptible in others?

Even though she’d never thought of herself as being like them, she couldn’t deny that in some ways, she
was
. And perhaps that meant, in reality, that she was unworthy of the girl’s adoration.

Embarrassed by the look in Fraxa’s eyes, Cait could only smile awkwardly in return. She nodded, then gave a little wave as she turned and left.