stated, “I’m Dr. Carrington Reid; Mr. Westerling has tasked me to work here on a project of his. I’m doing my research, under his authority.”
“Wait here,” the guard commanded as he pulled out his portable and made a call.
Within a few seconds, the guard was saying, “Yes sir, Mr. Gufstafson. I’ll tell him, sir. Thank you. Sir? Right now, my replacement won’t be down for shift change for another twenty minutes or so. Okay sir, I’ll be right there.” He stuck his radio back on his belt and said to Carrington, “You are cleared to do your work, Dr. Reid. You are welcome to go anywhere, except that room.” Of course, “that room” was the locked room Carrington was headed for. “I have to go topside, but my replacement will be here right away.” He trotted toward and then up the stairwell.
Carrington waited, walking around the main turbine, pretending to examine it. While he did this, he watched to confirm when the lone guard was gone and to make sure no one else was watching. After the guard slipped out, Carrington dashed to the entrance of the mystery room—the one he wasn’t allowed to see.
“So you’re giving in to them?” asked Sanchez. He was a bony computer nerd and not someone who would do well with cannibals lurking about.
“I’m giving into our condition,” Melanie argued, trying to put as much passion as she could into what she said. But she hated politics, and she especially hated not being true to her heart; her heart said this was wrong because the people who ran this place were not good people. She tried to look at life as a math problem, and with math there was no wiggle room, although Carrington did a much better job of this. Her father said it best: “Life is what it is, and the rest is bullshit.” She explained to them that this facility was their best chance at survival while society didn’t exist outside of their walls and cannibals were allowed to run around unchecked. Furthermore, as long as the sun was bearing down on them so hard, killing the very cells of every living thing… All these factors made their decision pretty easy, even if they didn’t like it. They would all survive together or die apart.
“Yeah, why are you singing a different tune now? Did you get something that you’re not telling us?” That was Babinski. He was a prick, although a damned brilliant prick.
“Look, guys”—the only two women in the room looked at her sternly—“and gals. You didn’t see what we saw; we watched four men get murdered in public. No, executed. Their dead bodies are still tied to poles, on display. It was a message to their people as well as to us. But, it’s worse than that. From what I understand, their bodies will be gone by tomorrow morning, thanks to the many cannibals outside who will eat them…” She let this ferment with them. “Is that really the kind of place you’re desperate to go to?”
A few heads shook.
“Me neither. We’re not asking you to believe everything we’re being told, but I believe that Bios-2 is our best chance of survival. Westerling and Lunder and the rest need us as much as we need them.”
“But how do we know that they will do what they say?” Babinski continued his rant.
Melanie closed her eyes and hoped Carr was having more luck with his challenge.
Carrington ran into a brick wall of a guard at the entrance of the mystery room: they were all physical specimens, but this man was a towering hulk who must have been fed a diet of only meat and steroids. He appeared strikingly like a certain green comic-book character, only a bit more flesh-toned.
“This area is restricted,” said the guard, in a higher pitched voice than expected.
“Oh, sorry. I’m Dr. Carrington Reid. I’m working on a project for Mr. Westerling. I need to get in here.”
“Unless you get approval from Mr. Westerling and I have that approval in writing, you cannot go in there. No one is allowed in there,” he said, solid as the building
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
John O'Riley
Brenda Sinclair
Christopher George
Stephen Lloyd Jones
Karl Iagnemma
Celya Bowers
Jill Gregory
Aria Cunningham