The Lethal Agent (The Extraction Files Book 2) Read online

  “No, Ms. Charlie. I’m full.”

  Abraham looked at her plate a noticed a mere two stalks of asparagus missing.

  “You kids keep eating. I’m going to talk to Abraham and Siya in the corridor. We’ll be right back,” she announced. Charlene strode down toward the girl’s room without looking back.

  Abraham pushed out of his chair and followed her, Siya right behind him.

  “What’s wrong?” Abraham asked when he was out of ear shot of the kids.

  “Renner threw up all over his bed and the floor. He has red patches on his neck. And his fever is up.”

  “So maybe it’s time to give him the antibiotics?”

  “It won’t help.” They both turned to stare at Siya.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The boy has red on his neck. It’s the laana. The curse.”

  “You know what it is?” Charlene looked up at him with arms crossed. “So how do we cure it?”

  “The laana is a virus. The stories say it started as the flu. The scientists, they play with it in the lab and make it into something else.”

  Charlene shook her head. “Then why weren’t we vaccinated against it. If they knew what it was, we should have gotten the shots.”

  “I’m telling you, it’s the laana. It puts the red on the neck, red with specks of white. It makes you hot, so hot you burn. It turns your stomach weak. I’ve seen strong men give in to the laana.”

  Charlene’s face drained of color.

  “Does he have white spots on the red patches?” Abraham asked.

  She only nodded and hung her head low.

  “So how can we help him? How long does it take to run its course?” Abraham hated asking Siya for information, but in this, he was the expert. They had no choice but to lean on his advice.

  Siya lowered his voice. “It takes four days. Sometimes, the man would rise up on the fifth day, strong as an ox and ready to work. Sometimes, the man would never rise.”

  “And you had this?”

  Siya nodded. “A few years back. My whole crew got it.”

  “How many survived?”

  “Nine.”

  “Out of?”

  “Twenty.”

  Abraham reeled. Half? Only half who got this would live? And those were men, fully grown and hardened to the world. Here in Luna, the victims would be children.

  SILAS

  CPI-AO-301

  SEPTEMBER 12, 2232

  Silas skulked back to his office and shouted, “Get in here, Nick!” as he passed his assistant’s door.

  He headed straight for his bar. The third ice cube clanked in the glass when he heard, “I’m here. What do you need?”

  Silas poured himself an extra tall brandy and turned around. “I need to know what information you have regarding Jane. Particularly, any complaints she made about Georgie.”

  Nick put his hands on his hips and replied, “Uh, I think she said he got drunk once.”

  Silas bit back the fuming anger that grew in his belly. “What exactly did she say?”

  Nick shrugged, like he hadn’t bothered to remember something so trivial. “Something about how he was drunk and came to her room. She didn’t like it but couldn’t get him back to his room.”

  “What did you do about it?”

  “What do you mean? I didn’t do anything. Intoxicated recruits are your department.”

  Silas threw his drink to the ground and relished the sound, the motion, the shatter of glass across his floor.

  “Are you telling me that a seventeen-year-old girl notified you that she was uncomfortable being alone in the presence of a drunk twenty-year-old man, and you didn’t do anything? You didn’t warn him? You didn’t protect her? You didn’t relay the information to your superior? You did nothing?”

  Nick stared in shock for the several seconds it took him to recover from the shattered glass. “Uh, no. I didn’t think it was a problem.”

  Fucking Scholars. They couldn’t see past their own two feet. Silas clenched his fists and walked to his desk, pulled up the ecomm program, and sent out the notification.

  Silas paced until Dasia arrived.

  She stood in the doorway with hands clasped before her. Silas had no doubt his uncontrolled anger kept her at a distance, but there was little to be done about it.

  “Did he touch her?” Silas asked, skipping over the pleasantries.

  Dasia nodded.

  “Just the once?”

  “Several times.”

  Silas covered his mouth with his hand for fear of what would come out. “How long have you known?”

  “About ten minutes longer than you.” Dasia looked at Nick. “Jane said she told him, but he didn’t do anything. She didn’t even want to tell me. Said it wasn’t worth it.”

  That was it. Silas snapped. “Tell her about Jane’s history. Tell her how Jane got here.”

  Nick gaped. He didn’t see what one had to do with the other. “Her mother was involved in a nullified marriage a few months before her Selection. She didn’t earn a mentor and was released.”

  “What are the only grounds for nullifying a Scholar marriage, Nick?” This was one question his spacey assistant could answer.

  “Domestic violence and sexual assault.” Nick said the words as the realization hit him.

  “She was abused?” Dasia asked in horror. “You knew she had a history of sexual abuse and you—” Even Dasia had had enough. She took three large steps and socked Nick across the jaw. When he collapsed forward, she grabbed his shoulders to hold him in place as she kneed his stomach. Then her elbow fell hard between his shoulder blades.

  Nick lay flat on the ground in less than four seconds.

  Dasia moved to kick him when Silas said, “That’s enough, Dasia.”

  She pulled back her foot and nodded. “If I ever see him again, I’ll kill him.” Then she turned and left.

  Nick groaned on the floor as he attempted to rise. Silas would have felt bad for him, getting his ass beat by a little teenage girl, but Silas had no room for sympathy for Nick. There was only sheer, blinding disgust.

  Silas knelt next to him. “Well, you heard her. You’re fired. You have ten minutes to get your shit and get out.”

  Nick looked up in shock. “What? You can’t do that.” Silas knew he meant to sound intimidating, but with a weak voice and blood dripping from his lip, he looked ridiculous.

  “I can, and I did. Get out.”

  “You’re casting me out? Where am I supposed to go?”

  “I don’t really give a fuck.” A moment later, he reminded him, “Ten minutes.” Silas watched Nick scurry to his feet, look back with bewildered eyes, then cross the hall to his office.

  Silas half-expected Nick to go crying to Masry, but he had the good sense to get out while he could still walk.

  Several crunching steps brought Silas back to his bar, where he poured another drink. Then, he commed Knox.

  The large face floated above his desk. “Heyo, bossman.”

  “Hey Knox. Nick’s been cast out. He has eight more minutes. Make sure he hits the curb on time and doesn’t come back.” Silas doubted Nick would lash out toward any recruits on his way out, but stranger things had happened. He wouldn’t risk their safety, especially after what they’d already been through.

  Knox nodded, as if it was a perfectly routine request, and then disappeared.

  There was nothing left to do. Silas had the unsavory task of facing Georgie, knowing what he’d done.

  Silas shot back his drink and made his way to the cleaning station.

  “He’s got another forty-five minutes,” Teresa said as she modified the program at the wall panel.

  “That long?” He wasn’t exactly in the mood to wait.

  “He had six broken ribs which lacerated his liver, lungs, and his large intestine. The occipital bones were both fractured along with several cracks in his maxilla and mandible. Add in time for the superficial repair, it was a quite the lengthy process. We’ll
have him back to his old self before too long, though the concussion will take longer, of course.”

  Silas wasn’t sure he wanted Georgie back at all. Nonetheless, he waited, and when the women announced he was finished, Silas shut the door behind them as they left.

  “Do you know the purpose of this facility?” Silas asked to start.

  “Yes, sir. We are supposed to find and kill the bugs in people’s brains.” In his blood-crusted shirt, Georgie sat on the metal table looking no worse for the wear.

  Silas wondered how much he remembered.

  “Are you under the impression that this facility somehow doubles as a pleasure hotel? A brothel? A fantasy club?”

  “What? No.” Georgie’s eyes raced across the floor. He had no idea what they were talking about.

  “Did you, at any time, engage in inappropriate sexual contact with any of the other recruits?”

  “Of course not. Why would—You mean Jane? Is that what she said happened?”

  “She hasn’t said anything. She won’t talk to anyone but Dasia. Why don’t you tell me your side of it? You went to her room drunk?”

  Georgie nodded. “Yeah, I was pretty gone, but I just wanted to get along with her. She pushed me, but, you know, I wanted to make her like me. I just wanted us to work together.”

  “She pushed you, and you left?”

  “Well, no. I mean, she always says she wants me to leave. I thought she was just being difficult like always. Am I being accused of something?” His brow was knit together with genuine concern.

  Silas wondered if maybe he’d made a mistake.

  His stomach sank.

  “Did you have sex with her?” Silas asked.

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “Did she tell you to leave her alone?”

  “Yeah, but like I said, that’s what she—”

  Silas grabbed two fistfuls Georgie’s blood-crusted shirt and pulled him from the table. He had every intention of walking Georgie to the door, but he couldn’t resist the urge to slam him against the wall first.

  His anger momentarily tempered, Silas dragged the pathetic cretin across the hall and threw him to the galley floor. He skid a full three feet before he stopped.

  “Knox!” Silas shouted, his voice echoing over the metal tables and white, plastic walls.

  An instant later, Knox popped his head out of his kitchen.

  “This disgusting parasite is terminated. Take him to the local Collector precinct. Get him out of my facility.”

  “What?” Georgie asked as he looked up from the floor.

  Knox pulled the towel from his shoulder and shuffled over remarkably quick for someone his size. He lifted Georgie off the floor and carried him out the door.

  Silas was a sloppy surgeon, but at last, the cancer was gone.

  MICHAEL

  LRF-PS-CONF

  SEPTEMBER 13, 2232

  Michael slid into the comfortable chair of the PS conference room and readied himself to hear their report. This time, there was a new face at the table.

  “Good morning, Director Filmore,” Dr. Perkins began, cool as ice.

  “Good morning to you all. I’m glad to see you were able to find an adequate replacement. I’m sure the position was not easy to fill.” He nodded to the young woman.

  “Dr. Kaufman has already proven herself to be a valuable asset to our department. We hope today’s report will be evidence of that.” Dr. Hill was warm as the sun compared to the rest of them.

  Abigail cued up her notes program on her tablet and gave them the signal to start.

  “As you’ll remember from our previous meetings, for the past quarter we have focused exclusively on the exoplanet Perkins-196, the fourth planet from Cignus. As a young yellow dwarf, Cignus has more than ten-million estimated years of stability,” Dr. Perkins began.

  Michael already knew it would be a long morning.

  Dr. Niemeyer set an image to display above the table, a cross-section of the planet with a dozen hollowed-out areas in the core. “The planet has a manganese core with an intermediate layer of calcium and lithium. The entire mantle portion is composed of liquid iron, which accounts for the reddish appearance of the surface geology. There is a small concern with the structure of the core,” Dr. Niemeyer said with something close to regret. “There are large pockets of air, almost perfectly spherical and connected via narrow tubes. If I didn’t know better, I’d think they were created by someone.”

  That piqued Michael’s interest. He sat up straighter in his chair and asked, “What makes you think they weren’t?”

  Dr. Niemeyer stared, as if deciding if Michael was intelligent enough to hear his answer. “Well, the planet’s iron mantle would make it nearly impossible for any kind of drilling mechanism to access the core. The planet has no advanced species of any kind, and there is no evidence of any life form capable of such development of a planet.”

  “Is it possible they formed during the assembly of the core?”

  Dr. Niemeyer shook his head. “It’s unlikely. At those temperatures, any kind of gas would be highly unstable.”

  “Do these gas pockets compromise the integrity of the surface?”

  “Yes, there is a good chance of crust deterioration due to insufficient support from the core,” Dr. Niemeyer replied. A moment later, he coughed so hard he held a hand to his throat.

  Dr. Hill filled the silence. “There is no evidence of surface deterioration, Director. We have no reason to believe the gas pockets would put a colony at risk. Our preliminary testing reveals that they do not. The surface is supported by the iron mantle, rather than the core.”

  Recovering, Dr. Niemeyer defended his report. “No, the gas pockets will cause the crust to sink into the mantle.”

  “All right, I get the idea. Send me the report, and I’ll analyze it myself.” Michael wasn’t about to waste his morning listening to the two bicker over a planet they’d only seen from scans. “What else do you have to show me?”

  Dr. Niemeyer continued, pulling up a graph with steep spikes in several places. “Atmospherically, there is a high concentration of nitrogen and hydrogen, with lower levels of oxygen.”

  “How do the oxygen levels compare to Earth?” Michael asked, trying to think of the latest numbers.

  “About double, and higher than the pre-war levels.”

  Michael would never get used to Scholars. They had no sense of perspective, no ability to see the big picture. Their noses were too far down their microscopes. A planet with double the oxygen of Earth certainly didn’t have ‘lower levels’.

  “So physically, the planet is suitable?” Michael asked, eager to be done with the boring data and frigid Dr. Niemeyer.

  “We have some small concerns, but nothing that would inhibit us from moving forward,” Dr. Hill offered.

  “What sort of concerns?”

  He swiped Dr. Niemeyer’s cross-section away and set the surface view of the planet to rotate above the conference table, but it was Dr. Perkins who answered. “The planet has a vast ocean, but the water is slightly acidic. Any colonies would have to be able to accommodate some sort of water purification system to neutralize the water. Native flora has adapted to the acidic water, but we don’t know if those species will be suitable for human consumption. There is no way to find out until a colony is in place.”

  He could see the direction this was going. “What about the native animal species? Any concerns?”

  This time, Dr. Perkins produced her catalogue of species. One occupied the screen, a bright-red creature with a long body and shining scales. A moment later, it was gone, replaced with another, a lavender one, flat and round with a dozen legs underneath. Then it, too, was replaced with another. Every three seconds, a new species appeared.

  Michael could already tell they had put together quite an extensive catalogue.

  “These are the native species observed by the probe during the past four weeks,” Dr. Perkins began. “The largest is approximately thirty-six inches.
The vast majority are herbivores. Only about four percent have been confirmed predators, and of those, none would pose a threat to a human colony.”

  A small red body hovered over the table with its twenty or so feathery arms spreading out in every direction. “We have indication that some of the species possess chemical defenses, toxins or poisons indicated by bright colors to ward off predators.”

  “Any reason to think they could harm a colony?” Michael rubbed his hand over his blond facial hair.

  Dr. Perkins straightened in her chair. “No, Director. We have used every measure, every research method, and every analytical tool available. This is the planet. This is as close as we are ever going to get.”

  “And Dr. Hill, you agree with Dr. Perkins?”

  “I do. I know Dr. Parr would have as well.”

  “But Dr. Niemeyer, you have concerns?”

  “We haven’t addressed the five lost probes, or the meteor impact projections. It’s too early to send a colony, and we have sufficient data to suggest this planet isn’t suitable for long-term human settlement. The native organisms are clearly hostile.” With an outstretched finger, Dr. Niemeyer pointed to the organism floating mid-air, a shimmering violet insect. It had thin wings and eight spindly legs, along with two antennas so long they made Michael cringe. Dr. Niemeyer wasn’t wrong. It did look hostile.

  Michael also noted the way the entire room seemed to stare at it, like it scared them as well. Abigail, Dr. Hill, even the new Dr. Kaufman, all stared at it with wide eyes. If the leading Scholars were afraid of it, then he couldn’t begin to hope a few dozen colonists would fare much better.

  Two votes for yes. One vote for no.

  “What about you Dr. Kaufman? You’ve been very quiet on the subject of planet 196. Do you think it’s suitable for a colony?”

  The young woman kept his gaze, oozing confidence and poise as she answered, “I’ve only been here a short time, but yes, Dr. Perkins and Dr. Hill are correct. This is the planet. It’s time for the colony.”

  That makes it three to one.

  Michael let his thoughts race long enough to know they weren’t going to settle anytime soon. “Thank you, doctors. I’ll go over your reports and let you know as soon as I’ve made my decision.” He stood and shook their hands. He made it all the way to the door before he realized Abigail remained in her chair, watching the creatures go by.