The Killing Jar (29 page)

LRF-CORRIDOR

AUGUST 23, 2232

Aida had never known such shame. She had violated every rule of her class. She broke her marriage vows and compromised her work environment.

They were so close—getting closer by the day—to a new homeworld.

And she had thrown it all away.

The pain of it stung. She would never know if Perkins-196 was the future locale of the human race. She would have no part in that discovery, she would contribute to science no further.

All those years wasted.

Her heels clicked down the empty corridor as she wondered why she was more disturbed by the loss of her work than that of her husband.

She couldn’t tell him.

She had to.

Aida knew she wasn’t capable of keeping such a thing inside her, a seed of rot to eat away at her until it consumed her.

They’d spent the full night in her office, a horrifying, exciting, passionate night. She didn’t even know what to do with it. Her ragged brain couldn’t even begin to process such an event.

What if she got pregnant? It would be fantastic. It would be horrible.

But no, Scholars were denied an amino acid necessary to get pregnant. Until the Child Permits were processed, she wouldn’t be cleared for the supplement.

She couldn’t get pregnant on her own. It was a physical impossibility.

Aida’s heart sank for the second time that morning.

She would never get to have children now.

“Aida, wait.” She heard Calvin, but didn’t stop or even slow. He jogged to catch up to her and stand before her, preventing her from going back to her apartment.

“Just wait a minute, you can’t leave like this.” She’d bolted from the office—her office—without a word to him. He had every right to be upset, but she needed to think.

His emerald eyes were shimmering and soft. “I’m sorry. It was all so fast. Let’s just let it settle in for a minute.” While last night he was strong and eager, now he was gentle and kind, like he’d always been.

It was the hand at her back that swayed her. Calvin smoothed his palm along her back, from top to bottom, and it brought her great comfort.

Going home to Sal would be anything but comforting.

Without a word, she turned and walked back with him. What was she doing? What had she already done?

Her parents would be so disappointed.

Calvin escorted her back into her office and lowered her into her desk chair. Her arms remained locked across her chest, some small barrier against herself.

He didn’t say anything for a long while. He stood in the doorway like a prison guard.

“Aida?” His voice was so quiet she wasn’t sure if she’d been hearing things. “Do you think it was a mistake?” he asked, his green eyes dark. The longer it took her to answer, the more his features fell.

Of course it was. She would lose her position. She would be sent back to Earth to live out her days as an Untouchable, to live on the cusp of society, always looking in but never taking part.

She would never see Calvin again.

Anything she felt for him, should she choose to give it hold over her, was nothing more than a waste.

How could she let herself be so weak?

“If you need time, that’s fine. I understand. But you can’t tell anyone.”

That was all she could take. Aida glowered at him. “Are you ashamed? You took everything in one stroke and you’re ashamed?”

If his features had fallen before, they plummeted now. There was a tension in his jaw she had never seen before. He was usually so warm, but now he was nothing but cold.

“No. I’ll never be ashamed. I’ll never regret it. Though it’s clear that you do.” Then Calvin left her alone in her office.

The scene of the crime.

For the second time, Aida marched herself toward her apartment. She kept her eyes open for any signs of him, but there was nothing. As if he vanished.

She tried to be relieved.

It the early morning hours, the corridors were empty. There were no witnesses to her shame.

As silently as possible, Aida pulled open the door and latched it again. Sal was sound asleep on his half of the bed, oblivious to her entry.

Aida changed into her sleep clothes and slid in next to him, wondering what it would be like if Sal touched her in the same way that Calvin did. She couldn’t imagine it.

Not that it mattered anymore. Despite what Calvin said, she had to tell him.

She couldn’t live a lie.

Dr. Parr would have been so disappointed. For the first time, she was glad he was dead so he wouldn’t have to witness her failure.

The regret of it filled her and threatened to burst. How could she be happy about his death, for even a moment? She was a terrible person. There was no other explanation. She lacked the ability to reason and emote properly, she decided.

Several hours of staring at the dark ceiling led her to the moment of no return. Sal woke for his day right on schedule. He sat on the edge of the bed and scanned his tablet for any ecomms sent during the night.

“Good morning,” she offered him, some excuse to talk to him. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep and shame.

Except he didn’t take the bait.

“Busy day today?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes. Data from the Ellipsis-35 colony just came in.” Her heart hammered in her chest.

“Sal?”

“Don’t you need to get ready for work?” he asked with his back to her.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Hmm?” Still he didn’t turn. He wouldn’t even look at her. She wanted to smack him, to make him pay attention to her.

She was trying to turn herself in, to end her own life with dignity. She was trying to prove she was no coward.

And he wouldn’t even let her.

It was then she realized Sal would never look at her the way Calvin did. She had a choice to make.

Aida didn’t bother with the indigo body suit. Instead she opted for a pair of sleek black pants and a bright teal top. She wasn’t going to hide anymore.

In the Planetary Systems wing, she stopped in Calvin’s office first, but it was dark and lifeless. She returned to her own office to wait for him.

When she flipped on the lights, he was sitting in her chair.

“Calvin?” she asked though it wouldn’t have been anyone else.

He only stared at her, his gaze even yet distant. “I have something to say. You’re going to let me finish and you’re not going to interrupt me.”

Aida sank into the metal chair that faced her desk. She felt awkward to be on the wrong side for once, for the first time in her life. She swallowed hard, afraid for what he might say. “All right. What do you want to tell me?”

SHUTTLE DOCK TOR-991, CHICAGO, NORTH AMERICA

AUGUST 23, 2232

Mable was used to being wrong about people. She’d always trusted the wrong ones, let them hurt her when she least expected it. Betrayed and backstabbed, time and time again.

But never, ever had she been wrong like this.

Arrenstein was a monster, a disgusting specimen of humanity that didn’t deserve the air he breathed. He was a killer, a murderer.

He was the only person who came for her, who sat by her side when she needed him.

He was the only person who was ever truly worth of her trust.

He was the only person she refused to give it to.

For the third time, Mable traveled to CPI. This time, Arrenstein himself accompanied her. He urged her to take breaks and sit when she needed it, but she always refused. When they got to their shuttle seats, she realized how tired she was from the short walk through the shuttle terminal.

She claimed the seat against the wall and pulled her knees up against her chest. Her hands shook and her head spun with fatigue. Arrenstein sat beside her. His shoulder was the perfect height for her to rest her head, thankfully the undamaged side.

“So what happens now? Am I in major trouble?” Mable wanted to know the extent of her punishment. Rightfully, they’d stick her on an intel team and never let her out again. She’d botched things on a biblical level.

Arrenstein sighed. “Not exactly.”

Mable didn’t move from his shoulder. “Then what?”

“I’d rather explain it when we’re back at CPI.”

“Just tell me.” How bad could it be?

“You’re infected. I’ll extract it when we get there and you’ll be free to go home. To the Root or wherever you want.” Arrenstein rubbed a hand over his chin and stared at his lap.

Mable pushed off so she could see his face. His features were set. “I’m infected? You can’t know that. You said yourself, there’s no test.”

“No, there’s not. But I’ve been doing this a long time. I’ve seen a lot of infected people, more than anyone else. You have a bug.”

There was a bug in her? A living creature in her brain, controlling her thoughts and actions. Was it controlling her now?

Mable rubbed her hands down the length of her arms. She felt robbed, violated.

“Which one?” Even as she asked, she knew. She had checked the Scholar woman for the Echo, the Gleam and the Yield. There was but one possibility. “The Slight.”

Arrenstein nodded.

Thoughts and facts about the bug came rushing back, too fast, all at once. She pressed her palm to her forehead as she combed through the data. Affects memories. No,
eats
memories. Always fatal. Only one person survived extraction.

Mable was as good as dead.

Arrenstein turned as much as the seat would allow. “I’ll get it out. It’s only been a few hours—”

She couldn’t tell who he was trying to convince.

There was no denying it. Arrenstein was afraid. From the wrinkles on his forehead to the tension in his jaw, it was written plain across his face.

It scared the shit out of her.

Arrenstein wrapped his arm across her shoulders. It was heavy and hot but she leaned against his chest nonetheless. Somehow, in this fucked up life, Arrenstein had become her ally.

He let her sit there, curled up against him for the rest of the flight. He helped her down the tube to the pod that took them back to CPI. As much as she hated it, she felt like she was coming home, someplace familiar, someplace hers. She had friends here. People cared about her here. She had a purpose and a sense of security.

It was more than she’d had in a long time.

Arrenstein led her straight to the cleaning station, the site of her former agony.

“What happens if you leave it in?”

He pushed open the doors and walked her toward the first room.

“It’ll slowly eat away at your cortex. You’ll forget things, struggle to learn new things. You’ll forget who you are and at some point, you’ll just drop dead. We’re not sure what the stimulus is. The bug just decides it doesn’t need you anymore, for whatever reason.”

Mable nodded. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For telling me the truth.” Few enough adults gave her that courtesy.

Arrenstein stopped beside the metal table and helped her up. He lifted her to sit on the side. “Let’s get this off first.” Careful hands appeared at the side of her head. She felt a pinch that paled compared to the agony on the other side. A moment later, he opened his palm to reveal the cam device.

Arrenstein threw the cam to the floor before he turned her to lay flat. He stripped off his suit jacket and tossed it on the counter. A few controls at the panel on the wall illuminated her figure on the projector.

Sure enough, there at the back of her neck, a red glow.

Seeing it for herself was somehow worse than knowing already. It was more real. Her death was more certain.

All her hope left her then.

Arrenstein fished around the cabinet and selected the tools he needed. His hands shook. His movements were jerky. He knew what was about to happen.

They both did.

When he returned to stand beside the table, Mable grabbed his arm.

“He told me to leave,” she confessed, shocked she would ever utter the words. Shocked she would ever say them to Arrenstein. But if not now, then when?

Arrenstein stared. “What?”

A tear slipped from her eye and ran down her temple. “Alex called me that day. For six minutes. He didn’t say anything about bugs. He told me to get out, to run. He told me not to ever go back.”

His eyes were on the tool in his hand, turning it over uselessly. When at last he looked at her, he asked, “Because you were pregnant?”

Mable could only stare. How could he know? How could he possibly know? He must have been listening to the call that day.

“He told me. Not in so many words, of course. He said he was going to be an uncle.” Arrenstein let out a small laugh, his eyes distant with memory. “He was pretty excited, actually. Wouldn’t shut up about it for a few weeks.”

Mable covered her face with her hands and sobbed. Big angry breaths fought for space in her chest and her throat ached.

Alex said he was happy, that he was proud of her, that day he called her. But it was so long ago, the last time she ever spoke to him. It didn’t seem real. How could anyone be proud of her after that?

“Do you need an assistant, Dr. Arrenstein?” called a woman’s voice from the door. Mable tried to pretend she wasn’t there.

“No, thank you. I’ve got it.” Then to Mable he said, “I’m going to get started now. I need you to roll onto your stomach. I’ll give you a sedative.” He held up a needle with a light green fluid as proof. “You’ll wake up in a few hours.”

Crying made her feel gross. She wiped her sleeve across her face and tried to remove the evidence, but she knew it was useless. “What if I don’t—”

“You will.”

She rolled over and rested her face on her arm.

Arrenstein smiled. Mable would have been comforted if she didn’t know that smile. It was his plastic smile, the one he slapped on his face during meetings and important comms.

It was the smile he used when he was lying.

The needle pricked her neck and everything went black. Everything but that smile.