“I really can’t speak to that, sir.”
“I’m guessing some of the crew have been hitting on you, too.”
She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, her cheeks flushing red. “Not that I’ve noticed.”
“Well, I’m sure they have. Sorry about that, but those biological urges have been hardwired into us, ever since we first crawled out of the ocean.”
“Even if they did, which they haven’t, I prefer playing for the other team,” she said as if she’d told him that fact before. There wasn’t any hesitation or inflection in her voice, either. Just a matter-of-fact statement about her sexuality. Almost as if she were ordering a ham sandwich for the hundredth time.
Craven hesitated for a few beats, questioning if her somber tone was a cover-up for how she actually felt—annoyed with his preemptive apology and what it meant—or she just wanted him to know she would rather be with women over men.
Then again, perhaps she offered that spin to make it easier for him to stop the unwanted advances by the mouth breathers protecting The Factory. A little deterrence, if you will, as if that would make a difference with the men. Regardless, he decided it was best to change the subject.
“Carry on,” he said, walking the length of the room with his hands behind his back.
He needed to spend some time pondering the Fletcher situation. Deal or no deal, there was a change coming. He knew it and figured Fletcher knew it; at least, that’s what his gut was telling him. Especially after the carnage at the Trading Post. If he was right, then he’d need to expand his territory.
Rice cleared her throat, speaking from across the room. “As to your suggestion from yesterday, you were correct. I did need to tweak the baseline formula in the Genesis Fluid. Nice catch, boss. I think this mix has real promise. Hopefully, the male population will achieve reproductive viability soon.”
“Sounds like we’re getting close to a self-sustaining process. I can’t tell you how happy that makes me. I definitely selected the right person for the job.”
“I also have a new theory for solving the issue with their noses. Or lack thereof.”
“Let’s scrap that for now. In truth, I think that imperfection has actually helped us over the years. A brand of sorts, making it appear frostbite was the cause. Exactly what would’ve happened if our products were all natural and left to fend for themselves in the wild.”
Rice nodded, but didn’t respond.
“If I were a betting man, I’d lay odds that this one defect kept Edison from asking a lot of questions. Frost, too.”
“A reasonable conclusion.”
“I’ve learned over the years that sometimes the smallest imperfections can help sell the biggest cons,” Craven said, pacing as he continued. “Plus, I’m sure our friends at both camps were only focused on the consistent delivery of their supply. Never once did they ask where any of it came from.”
“Except Fletcher. He figured it out.”
“As I intended. Sometimes you have to dangle the carrot for the rabbit to enter your snare.”
“Adjusting the blend now,” Rice said, clicking two switches on the control wall in front of her, then twisting a trio of dials. She moved two steps over and snatched a clipboard from a hook on the wall and turned to page three of the paperwork.
After studying the information for a few moments, she took a pencil from her front pocket and made notes, crossing out the bottom line and replacing it with different numbers.
Craven stopped his pacing, leaning in and over her shoulder to verify the new figures matched the readings from the instrument panel sitting atop a workstation. “Did security figure out how we lost containment?”
“Not yet, but they’re still working on it.”
“What’s taking so long?”
“Not sure. Commander Stipple mentioned something about the last generation being significantly more ingenious than expected.”
Craven shook his head. “Still doesn’t explain the breakdown in security. Good God, it was only one.”
“Technically, sir, it’s been seven.”
“I meant recently.”
She twisted a lip but didn’t respond.
Craven continued. “Regardless, this problem should never have happened. Then or now.”
“I would concur, assuming they’d been there on standby, as I suggested. I tried to warn them about the possibility, but they ignored me.”
“I’ll talk to security and make it clear. What you say goes. You’re the hammer and they are the nail. End of story.”
She didn’t skip a beat, continuing in the same tone, reminding him of a post-graduate lecture. “You might also want to reinforce the fact that if she hadn’t been far more advanced than anything we’ve seen thus far, others might have joined her.”
“You mean a percentage of the males.”
“Yes. Much like with the initial batches, when we didn’t know about The Surge and its effect.”
“—Emergence.”
“This new variant won’t be limited to the females for long. It will cross genders. It’s only a matter of time.”
Craven ran the facts through his head, realizing she may have been trying to rationalize the incremental failures in the technology he’d stolen.
He chose not to dwell on it, knowing that science evolves in leaps and bounds, not in a straight-line path, more so when the original theory is not your own.
The video player in his mind flashed a flood of images, each one a twisted replay of their earliest success stories.
Even though some of his former colleges might have considered The Surge a failure, he didn’t. The same could be said for the new evolutionary step they called Emergence. New paths are often blazed by happy accidents, whether the science is predicable or experimental.
Sure, some of the first batches escaped containment early on, but at the time, his team was still perfecting their protocols and adjusting to the unexpected. “Frost sure took his time to hunt them down.”
“Assuming he ever did.”
“Good point. We really don’t know for sure.”
“Either way, we need to rethink our security measures.”
“Sounds prudent. Though I have to say I have a lot invested in this place, so we can’t afford any more glitches. And certainly, no more detention issues, not with the Fletcher situation heating up. Everything must proceed on schedule. If not, we’ll be exposed and I can’t let that happen.”
“Understood, but I’m not sure you’re hearing me, sir.”
“About what?”
“The inherent danger of these evolutionary advances. If the intelligence level continues to accelerate like we’ve seen, we might lose containment of entire batches. Let alone keep everything on schedule. I understand your need for a superior product, sir, but this Emergence was never factored into our original plans. Some are becoming increasingly violent as a result. I’m doing my best to compensate, but I’m afraid the incubation chambers are not designed for this. Neither is the Genesis Fluid.”
“I know what’s at stake, Rice. Just keep it together long enough for me to take care of business with Fletcher. We’ll deal with the rest later. I need sufficient numbers and I need them now. A few DOAs here and there won’t matter in the grand scheme of things.”
“Yes, sir. Batches one-fifty-one through one-seventy-two are ready. Stipple has them trained and ready to go, as ordered.”
CHAPTER 30
The Nomad let the tension in his neck fade as he walked farther into the cave with Four, thankful she had taken the lead. His knees stumbled along, much like his logic at the moment, mired in a molasses of thought, everything trudging ahead in slow motion.