didn’t matter. Better to get it out in the open now.
He stole through the empty hallway like another shadow. The lights were dim. Most of the doctors and nurses were out resting; the guards were searching the lower chambers for the alien.
He entered through the double doors and began the walk through the hall leading into the Council’s meeting chamber. He expected to be scolded. He didn’t think they would give him much room to speak. They certainly would not entertain any notions continuing Barton’s allowance.
Whitmere shrugged. It was going to end anyway.
Time to face the music, he thought, walking into the dark chamber.
Grumbling hushed with his arrival. The room was circular with rows of seats high above him in the wall. The Council sat staring at him—old faces, stern and disciplined. The oldest and wisest. The ones who’ll decide his fate.
“Greeting, Council.” Whitmere began with a nod to them. Some responded in the same fashion. Others voiced their disappointment for being there.
“Doctor Whitmere, it is in our inconvenience that we have called you here at this hour. But our growing concerns for this matter have forced us to make a drastic decision.” An older male spoke with disdain. He was obviously annoyed.
Others in the Council whispered their agreement. Whitmere stood quietly.
“It’s been reported to us that your project has failed, that some of your patients have come up missing, presumably in the hands of the doctor you have created and is now out of your control. Is this correct?” a council member asked.
Whitmere thought of Jean right away. She had informed them. No matter, he thought.
Whitmere nodded carefully. “In part. I do not think things are as far out of reach as you have been told.”
“The alien is missing! How much farther out of control does it need to be?” shouted a member.
“What about your patients? Are they missing as well?”
Whitmere grunted. “Some patients were under his care. They will be found and examined. They are of no concern to us. They are already initiated and in phase one.”
“You should have given us council at the first indication of trouble, Whitmere.” another added.
The Council members began talking over one another, shouting their displeasures at Whitmere.
“This Council has decided. We are going to do what we should have done long ago. This project will affect our entire race and must be dealt with extreme concentration and no error. We are structuring change from this point forward. First of, Barton shall be found and terminated. We will decide later on whether or not you will continue to head up the research for this project.”
Whitmere grimaced. “There is no other that has experience. Putting another in charge would deviate our course. Barton will be found and removed from this matter. But I cannot see this continuing further under someone else’s direction.”
“You may not be continuing anything, doctor. Don’t forget your place.”
Whitmere kept his anger just at the tip of his tongue. His eyes burned like fire as he challenged each of them momentarily.
“We understand that this has been your project since the beginning, Doctor Whitmere. However, we will entertain all considerations at this point.” another stated.
“You will return to us when Barton is found.” someone else added.
The Council went quiet. Whitmere was being dismissed. He felt his face get hot. Barton had cost him. Barton had embarrassed him. Barton would pay dearly.
“I will return shortly then,” he said and then left.
Whitmere turned and walked out. The only thought running through his head was killing Barton.
T W E N T Y - T W O
It was dark and sweltering where Steve Barton exited the ventilation system. He had crawled for as long as he could, making sure he was well away from the room where the guards would be looking before he kicked out an air duct opening and dropped down into a room. The air was thick and musty. The room was black with a steady thrumming from somewhere. Then he realized it was everywhere. In the darkness, he saw nothing.
Barton fumbled his way past tall pillars until he reached a wall. The wall ran for a great length before it reached a corner; Barton turned with it. Within a few minutes he reached a door and a light sensor. Waving his hand before it activated the lights to come on. Rows of lights slowly lightened against the ceiling. Barton’s curiousness kept him from dimming the lights and exiting the room.
Before the lights could fully brighten the room, he was walking towards its center. Tall towers were everywhere, draped with thick chords, winding and overlapping. As the lights brightened, he saw the pillars clearly. He stopped walking, staring in awe.
Massive cylinder tubes ran to the ceiling, several feet in circumference, filled with a strange liquid. Barton pressed against the glass of one, peering into it, trying to discover what lay hidden within. The liquid offered little—it was dark and thick. Yet something moved within. For him, it was like looking into a microscope at some pond water, watching the tiny creatures within.
The more he focused on one area, the more he saw. Tiny, microscopic movements, squirming inside, moving quickly, worm-like, but unlike any worm he had ever seen. He was fascinated.
The room was vast, stretching for a hundred of yards. It was something important, he thought. The size of the tubes and the sheer thickness of the glass encasing the liquids made him think a leak of any sort would be dangerous.
Placing his palms against the tube, he could feel the vibration, the movement of the liquid inside, and the noise produced from it. The liquid was not being kept in the tube, he realized, but rather vesseled with in. Staring up, he noticed that some of the tubes ran together, connecting, before disappearing into the ceiling.
Barton didn’t understand it.
He decided to trace one of the tubes, heading towards the center of the room.
Then he heard something. He hid behind a cylinder. The noise came and went in no particular rhythm or pattern. A tink here, a clank there, moments of silence in between. Then he realized it was metal objects moving against each other. Tools, he thought at once.
Someone was in the room.
He remained still for several minutes before he heard the small clinks of someone working. He risked a quick look past his protective post. He was right. Further away there was a man with some tools doing something to a metal box that housed a string of wires. He was working close to the door. Barton could not escape unnoticed. He pressed his body close to the tube again, allowing enough room to be able to watch the man. Better to know exactly where he is at all times, Barton thought.
For several long minutes Barton stood quietly, motionless against the towering cylinder, waiting, and watching the mechanic toil and tinker with a small electrical device, hearing the constant sound of the solvent moving through the tubes around him.
Then the man moved out of sight. Barton panicked. He moved to the other side and stole a glance but saw nothing of the mechanic. It could be that he left the room, but Barton thought against it.
He heard something move then, closer. He turned instantly. The man had just walked past a set of holding tubes when he spotted Barton. For a second, neither moved. The mechanic had a hand full of small tool-like objects and a face full of wonder. Barton had clearly caught him by surprise.
Barton turned full towards the shorter, narrow being, bald like the others, his face etched in annoyance. He would kill the alien before he could warn the others. Barton prepared himself.
Instead, the other nodded in a greeting fashion and continued about his business. Barton was stunned.
“Sorry, doctor. I thought I was alone.” the mechanic called out. His shoulder and head twitched every few seconds, stemming from a giant lump on his neck.
“Me too.” Barton calmed. “You’re working alone?”
“Always do.” The mechanic sighed audibly.
“Sometimes that’s for the best.” Barton casually walked over to
him.
“Maybe for you,” he replied to himself. He looked at Barton watching him closely and his annoyance escalated. “What exactly are you doing in here anyway?”
“I was just checking things over,” Barton smiled slightly. He needed to leave.
“You people have no idea what happens down here anymore.”
The mechanic finished his toilings, set his tools into a pouch, stood and turned to face Barton. He was mad. Doctors and those in higher ranks had little to do with the happenings of the ship. They never give him the due respect. Why should he give them theirs?
The mechanic continued with bitterness. “I know who you are. I know what you’re doing here. And I don’t care for it.”
Barton paused. The look the other gave him was nothing friendly. Barton took a deep breath and stepped closer.
“You know who I am?”
The mechanic spit. “I don’t care who you are anymore. You walk on my toes, I’ll walk on yours. You’re no more important than I am, than us, who are stuck down here doing the dirty work. You people forget that we’re even here, until you need something. Even then, we get treated inferior. But without us, where would you be? We take our work seriously. And yet here you are, inspecting on your own, looking over me as if I didn’t have a clue. But I’m not as gimp as you think. I know more about this than any of you up there.”
Barton kept his intense gaze. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I was merely curious.”
“They’re fine,” the mechanic stated as Barton turned away. When Barton