Scuzzworms (17 page)

Imelda nodded again.

“Your record, however, might best be described as somewhat checkered.”

They had known that when they hired her.  So what?

“I have never known Dr. Caldwell to have his head turned by a woman before.  It is very unlike him.  Trefarbe tells me that his decisions have lately been, well, a bit questionable.  She says that he has been giving you far too much responsibility, responsibility that you are ill equipped to handle.”

“Have you discussed this with Dr. Caldwell?” she asked quietly.

Jinks shifted uncomfortably.  “Well, no, I wished to discuss it with you first, to see if we could reach an agreement.”

“What sort of agreement?”

Jinks cleared his throat again, a sign that she was not expected to like what was coming.  “That you would, well, cease accepting favors from him.  I cannot tell you to stop seeing him, of course.  Please understand that someone like him, who is inexperienced with women, well, they sometimes feel that they must impress their consort.  They are unduly susceptible to manipulation.  I would not wish to see his reputation tarnished by his association with you.”

Imelda nodded.  Jinks should be quite familiar with feminine manipulation of adoring males in view of his association with Trefarbe.  Of course, he himself was immune to such tactics. 

“I appreciate your concern, sir, but my relationship with Dr. Caldwell is strictly business.  Director Trefarbe was not made privy to the arrangement due to some personality conflicts that I have had with her.  You can discuss this further with Dr. Caldwell if you wish to know the details.”  Imelda shot him a look. “And I do not consider being loaded down with administrative tasks a favor.”

Jinks was frowning.  “Business arrangement?  I’ve heard it called that before, but I do not see how that justifies...?”

Imelda interrupted impatiently. “I work for Biotech.  He is my Division Chief.  He asked me for assistance in monitoring research progress during his absence.  I agreed only in the interests of helping the project.  I have not asked for any favors.” 

“Then what do you get out of this?” he asked.

She grinned sarcastically.  “Look at my past record.  I function best when no one likes me.”

Jinks continued to stare at her suspiciously.  “I can’t believe you mean that.  Let me reinforce one thing.  Dr. Caldwell is an important employee in our corporation.  Whether you care about your own reputation or not, Biotech cares about his.  Don’t drag him down to your level.”

Imelda nodded slowly, making a decision.  As long as she had the man’s attention, she could at least battle for something she DID care about.  “One thing, sir, before I go.  Dr. Caldwell is going to request additional stationary observation posts for us.  The posts are not for me, but for the other study groups to use.  Trefarbe has been under some misconceptions regarding their intent, and I want to be sure you don’t misunderstand.”  Imelda was making a wild guess about Trefarbe’s machinations, and the look on Jinks’ face told her she was right.

Jinks nodded, frowning.  “Additional stationary posts?  I don’t think so.  The project received only a tentative approval pending review by the stockholder’s convention.  It would be foolish to extend our budget right now.”

“The additional observations we make should shorten the total duration of the project, and will result in a money savings.”  Imelda hastily launched into an explanation of a feasibility profile that she had composed after speaking with
Caldwell.

Jinks nodded.  “I see.  So one less mobile unit will give us how many stationary units?”

The compromise they reached was not quite what she had hoped for, but compatible with what she had expected.  She hoped Caldwell would not cremate her for this.

He eyed her contemplatively.  “Are you sure you wouldn’t care to accompany me back to headquarters?  Trefarbe tells me that you are overdue for a vacation.”

Imelda swallowed her knee-jerk response before it got her fired.  “Um, no thanks.  My study has reached a critical turning point.”

That’s too bad,” he answered, with a look in his eye that implied a deeper interest than she had anticipated.  She fled the room hastily.

Trefarbe was waiting outside the door.  Her expression was frosty.  “I do hope you got the message.  I expect a full forty hours per seven threeshift from you from now on. Dr. Hiebass and I will be keeping a close watch on you, Doctor Imelda.”

Imelda glared at her in frustration, then shrugged.  “I’m not a slave.  I’m an employee, a rotten employee, according to you.  If you don’t like the quality of my work, then do what you think is necessary now, and get it over with.  I’m not likely to change just because I’m being harassed.  Is that all you wanted to talk about?”  Imelda was impatient with Trefarbe.  She was getting to be a bore.

Trefarbe almost snarled.  “You don’t get it, do you?  You are very close to seeing your contract canceled.  This could mean the end of your career!  I am only trying to help you.  You don’t realize how others in this project perceive your attitude.”

Imelda almost yawned.  She already knew how others perceived her attitude.  “Tell me, does Fish have a girlfriend?”

“What?”  Trefarbe paused.  “I wouldn’t know.  Why?”  Her eyes glinted.  “Are you interested?”

“I just figured that maybe you should go out with him since the two of you like to spend so much time talking about me.”

Trefarbe smiled coldly.  “Your cute little remarks are juvenile, Dr. Imelda.  I would hope for better from a professional like you.”

Professional?  Imelda looked at the expensive jewelry adorning Trefarbe’s wrists and fingers pointedly.  “I expect better from someone with as much experience at your profession as well, Trefarbe.  If you take pride in annoying me, then you should be quite pleased with yourself.  If you have other motives, then you have chosen a petty and childishly transparent way to accomplish your ends.  I am tired of your game.  Try something new if you wish to keep my interest.”

Trefarbe regarded her with an icy reserve.  “I am not playing a game,” she answered.  She turned and left.

Imelda watched her go contemplatively.  It was dangerous to openly challenge someone like Trefarbe.  But, hang it all, she WAS bored.  Trefarbe had become far too predictable.

#

Camille had paged her and Post.

“Sit down, both of you.  Take a deep breath.  Take two.  No three.  Oh never mind, I’ll just show you the infrareds. Yes, that’s it, the infrareds.”  Camille’s voice resolved into a mumble.

Imelda stared at Camille as she busily whirled controls at her workstation.  Kellogg’s workstation hung empty.   Jinks was long gone, back to Biotech’s headquarters. 
Caldwell had stayed behind for the time being, until the results of the stockholder’s meeting became known.     She was slated to spend the next three months setting up the three additional stationary observation posts that Jinks had finally approved.  Grady’s group had been given her old observation post and Camille had been anointed with the onerous task of staring at the bog for the past shift, which she did resignedly.

She figured that the stress had been too much for Camille.  She was clearly losing control.

“Now look.  Watch that blob there.  Watch it closely.”

It took Imelda a moment to realize that the heat-emitting blob on the infrared monitor was Borg, the scuzzhog.

“See his mouth?  He’s closing it.”

Imelda glanced at Post quizzically.  So? Post shrugged.

“Now watch.  Wait a minute.  Yep, there he goes!”

The infrared image changed position, rising gradually upward.  It stopped, somewhat higher on the screen, and currents of water and soupy mud swirled around it, the image becoming less distinct as the warm mud spread out and away.  After a few minutes, the image headed down again, ending up back at its starting point.

“Did we get a visual of that?”  Imelda and Post chorused.

“Oh, God, did we!” answered Camille.  Imelda, remembering the original visual of Borg, felt her heart sink.

As Imelda reached forward to run the aforementioned tape, Camille interrupted excitedly.  “Now, see!  See!  Look at that, for God’s sake!”

Imelda wasn’t sure whether to watch the tape or Camille.

The blob wasn’t moving. But near the top of the screen where the blob had been, the mud had cooled enough to reveal several smaller heat-emitting forms, their shapes hard to discern.  A small flock of heat emitting forms swooped down to surround one of the shapes, and now carried it off.  The others continued to lay still, one and then the other twitching intermittently.

“Camille!  What happened?  Dammit, what happened?  You &*^%*&^jj, what happened?  Show me the ^*^*^ visual!”

Camille was laughing.  “Pay dirt!  That’s what happened!  Pay dirt!  How much money will you pay me, you two?  How much is it worth to you?  It was on my monitor!  Mine!  My report!”  Camille was grinning like an ass.  Imelda wanted to strangle her.

“Thief!  You *&^&^*!  All right, I’ll pay.  Name your price.  If I’ve got it, I’ll pay.”  Imelda was disgusted.  How many hours had she spent on monitors waiting for something like this?  It wasn’t fair.

Post, equally disgusted, groaned.  “All right Camille, what is it?  What do you want?”

Camille sat back, looking at them calculatingly.  “A date.”

“What?”

“Dinner next shift.  Beer.  Wine.  I’ve heard about your food stash, Post.  I want a date for the four of us.  Real food.  You and Imelda, and me and Kellogg.  Imelda, you have to come too, or it’s no deal.  I’m tired of you hiding in the closet.”

“Are you nuts?”  Imelda was almost overwhelmed by a panic attack.  A date with Post?  Then reason came back.  “Um, tell you what. Dinner is okay with me, as long as we don’t call it a date.  I don’t date.  But I eat.  Will that do?” 

Camille shook her head.  “A date.  Nothing less.  Is it a deal, or do I sit on this video for a while?”

Post glanced at Imelda, then Camille.  “A date, and my food.  This is double punishment for me, Millie.  You have something against me?”

Camille smiled.  “Nope.  I would just like to see you do something besides work.”

Post groaned.  “I should have my head examined.  Okay, but this had better be good.”  Imelda grimaced and nodded grudging assent.

Camille grinned.  “Feast your eyes and hold your stomach. Better keep your finger on the pause button.  It helps if you only watch it in segments.”

Imelda’s monitor still showed the last struggles of the smaller egg at the edge of the bog.  Camille had been watching the surface of the bog, using her time to measure the size and metabolic rates of various creatures as they lingered nearby, waiting for ... something.

Everything w
as quiet.  The rain had stopped and the sun had broken through the clouds briefly.  The nearly constant chittering of the animals formed a steady backdrop to the flashing wings and slowly grazing forms that covered the shore.  If it hadn’t been for the film of slime on the surface of the bog and the lazily swimming worms, it could have been called pretty.

Suddenly
a low rumbling noise disturbed the peace.  At the sound, all the animals froze.  In the distance a herd of deergrazers lifted their heads.  As the noise faded, rustling could be heard everywhere.  Out of the mass of tendrils on the shore, an unfamiliar head stuck.  Slowly, the rest of the beast emerged, with some of the tendrils trailing behind.  Imelda caught her breath.

“What is that?” Imelda asked.

“Damned if I know.  It must hide in those whatever they are things on the shore.  It didn’t show up on the infrared monitor, so it must have a very slow resting metabolism.”

“Is it the...?”  She hushed.  The surface of the bog seemed to be bulging upwards.

The worms swam excitedly towards the bulge.  The herd of deer grazers was now running towards the bog as well, as were most of the species that until now had been so placidly eating.  The feather dusters fluttered about with several other flying species, darkening the sky overhead.

Imelda muttered softly under her breath.  As the last syllable emerged from her lips, the surface of the bog broke.  Borg’s hideous face appeared in all its glory.     She had seen the other video of him to tolerance, and was able to take him in stride, more or less.  She decided that it was his striking resemblance to a gargoyle that made him so repulsive.  Of course, the green glop dripping all over him didn’t help.  She noticed several worms shinnying up his sides in their excitement.  Thankfully, at least for now, he kept his mouth shut.

The view was somewhat at an angle, and his posterior was mostly away from the view of the camera.  As she watched, slits opened on his sides and gelatinous material appeared.  With a sickening plop, the material hit the surface of the bog.

More gelatinous goo drained out from the slits as they watched.  Borg, however, seemed pleased with himself.  He opened his mouth in a hideous smile.

The mud roiled and bubbled as hundreds, maybe thousands of worms wriggled out of the watery surface reaching for Borg’s mouth, climbing over each other in their haste to get inside.  The view became partially obscured as a flock of feather dusters came screeching down to surround one of the gelatinous masses, which had now assumed the more typical features of an egg.