ago.”
“That’s not exactly correct. We planted a crop of wheat in an open field. Couldn’t maintain it because of those monsters. But it grew, son. Fast as the jungle. We just don’t know why.”
His father seemed alight with energy. He looked younger than Trace felt.
“This is your explanation as to why you are here?” Trace said. “One unkempt field?”
“You are aware, of course, that there is a food shortage.”
“And you want to feed the galaxy.”
“Is that so wrong?”
“No. I just don’t buy it.”
Aldus’ eyes flared above his mask. Then, unexpectedly, they crinkled with humor. “Let me show you the project.” He moved deeper into the greenhouse, calling back over his shoulder. “You’ll appreciate this. I’ve worked on it for years. You mentioned seeing hybrids. Well, this is the hybrid of hybrids.”
He stopped before a seedling bed. The plants had broad, black leaves. A nameplate labeled them SUSAN’S GIFT .
Trace looked up. “Susan?”
“Your mother started the project before she became too ill to work. I picked it up from her notes. It’s been long in development. A lot of failed starts. A lot of government grants petering out on me.” He glanced at Trace then laughed. “It’s a cure, son. A cure for Maramus Disease.”
Trace couldn’t have been more stunned if his father had taken out a gun and shot him. He stared at the bed of black leaves.
“Unfortunately, the plant grows slowly.” Aldus grunted as he reached beneath the table. He brought out a jar and removed a mottled red and green seedcase, holding it for Trace’s inspection. When Trace didn’t accept the pod, he set it on the table. “It takes nearly three years to produce its first fruit. But I thought if I could bring it here, unravel the secret of accelerated growth—”
“You think this will make up for it?” Trace said. “For not helping her when she needed you, for not being there when she died?”
Aldus’ face fell. “I was fund raising, trying to find backing for the project. Her project.”
“So you left me in your stead. A fourteen-year-old kid. Do you know what that was like? Do you have any idea what it did to me to watch her die?”
“Trace, I know it was hard, but—”
“She was a stick figure. A caricature. I wanted to think of her as my mother, tried to remember her rocking me in her arms. What arms, Dad? Her arms were eaten away.”
“Son, try to understand.”
“In the end, I was afraid of her, dreaded that sunken face. I hated the burden she’d become, hated myself.” He stared at his father. “But most of all, I hated you for leaving me alone.”
“Listen, I—”
“Now, you think you can atone. The poor grieving widower carrying on his dead wife’s work. But you can’t fool everybody. The reason behind this miraculous cure is the same reason you were never home to begin with. Money.”
“That was never it. Don’t you understand? Susan’s Gift will save countless lives.”
“It won’t bring back my mother,” Trace said, “and she’s the only one who mattered to me.”
Aldus’ eyes glistened, but his expression was hard. Without a word or another glance, he stormed from the greenhouse.
Trace bit back a riposte. Go ahead. Walk away. That’s what you do best. Don’t explain. Don’t ever apologize.
He slammed his fist against the table, wincing with dull pain, and then snatched up the seedpod. Susan’s Gift. A dry sob tore his throat. Holding the precious pod to his chest, he squinted hard against the tears.
CHAPTER 15
N atica stood at her post in the garish jungle. She hugged her flame gun and glanced over her shoulder. The roar of a distant bulldozer fell to silence. She listened for a moment to the supervisor calling instructions to his workers. Then she heard nearby footsteps. She spun about, flame gun held ready.
Wilde stepped toward her from the trees. “This is stupid. We’re daring the vegetables to attack. He’s putting us
“That’s not exactly correct. We planted a crop of wheat in an open field. Couldn’t maintain it because of those monsters. But it grew, son. Fast as the jungle. We just don’t know why.”
His father seemed alight with energy. He looked younger than Trace felt.
“This is your explanation as to why you are here?” Trace said. “One unkempt field?”
“You are aware, of course, that there is a food shortage.”
“And you want to feed the galaxy.”
“Is that so wrong?”
“No. I just don’t buy it.”
Aldus’ eyes flared above his mask. Then, unexpectedly, they crinkled with humor. “Let me show you the project.” He moved deeper into the greenhouse, calling back over his shoulder. “You’ll appreciate this. I’ve worked on it for years. You mentioned seeing hybrids. Well, this is the hybrid of hybrids.”
He stopped before a seedling bed. The plants had broad, black leaves. A nameplate labeled them SUSAN’S GIFT .
Trace looked up. “Susan?”
“Your mother started the project before she became too ill to work. I picked it up from her notes. It’s been long in development. A lot of failed starts. A lot of government grants petering out on me.” He glanced at Trace then laughed. “It’s a cure, son. A cure for Maramus Disease.”
Trace couldn’t have been more stunned if his father had taken out a gun and shot him. He stared at the bed of black leaves.
“Unfortunately, the plant grows slowly.” Aldus grunted as he reached beneath the table. He brought out a jar and removed a mottled red and green seedcase, holding it for Trace’s inspection. When Trace didn’t accept the pod, he set it on the table. “It takes nearly three years to produce its first fruit. But I thought if I could bring it here, unravel the secret of accelerated growth—”
“You think this will make up for it?” Trace said. “For not helping her when she needed you, for not being there when she died?”
Aldus’ face fell. “I was fund raising, trying to find backing for the project. Her project.”
“So you left me in your stead. A fourteen-year-old kid. Do you know what that was like? Do you have any idea what it did to me to watch her die?”
“Trace, I know it was hard, but—”
“She was a stick figure. A caricature. I wanted to think of her as my mother, tried to remember her rocking me in her arms. What arms, Dad? Her arms were eaten away.”
“Son, try to understand.”
“In the end, I was afraid of her, dreaded that sunken face. I hated the burden she’d become, hated myself.” He stared at his father. “But most of all, I hated you for leaving me alone.”
“Listen, I—”
“Now, you think you can atone. The poor grieving widower carrying on his dead wife’s work. But you can’t fool everybody. The reason behind this miraculous cure is the same reason you were never home to begin with. Money.”
“That was never it. Don’t you understand? Susan’s Gift will save countless lives.”
“It won’t bring back my mother,” Trace said, “and she’s the only one who mattered to me.”
Aldus’ eyes glistened, but his expression was hard. Without a word or another glance, he stormed from the greenhouse.
Trace bit back a riposte. Go ahead. Walk away. That’s what you do best. Don’t explain. Don’t ever apologize.
He slammed his fist against the table, wincing with dull pain, and then snatched up the seedpod. Susan’s Gift. A dry sob tore his throat. Holding the precious pod to his chest, he squinted hard against the tears.
CHAPTER 15
N atica stood at her post in the garish jungle. She hugged her flame gun and glanced over her shoulder. The roar of a distant bulldozer fell to silence. She listened for a moment to the supervisor calling instructions to his workers. Then she heard nearby footsteps. She spun about, flame gun held ready.
Wilde stepped toward her from the trees. “This is stupid. We’re daring the vegetables to attack. He’s putting us
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