Scuzzworms (30 page)

Camille interrupted.  “What were you saying about a refund?  You are getting too much money?”

Imelda glanced at Camille guardedly.  “Base pay for a maintenance worker is double that of an intermediate level biologist.  We are in the wrong profession, gang.”

“What?” a chorus greeted her.   

“Look it up yourself.  They get hazardous duty pay.  That’s why Ferrin had a fit when he found out that he has been paying me.”

“Running a vacuum cleaner is hazardous duty?”

“Sure.  Makes them sneeze.”

Three more babies.

Imelda stared at the tiny forms through the glass.  That brought the total to eight.  This made three borgettes capable of live birth of humans.  These three babies were all premature, about five months gestation.  They were doing quite well so it had been decided to allow them to remain inside their eggs until they were a bit more mature. These eggshells resisted the incursions of the placenta better and did not bleed.

The incubator was kept moist and warm with a high oxygen concentration to support the infants inside their eggs. A nutrient mix dripped over the external shell.  It was crazy but it was working.

The contaminated borgettes were captured with difficulty and transported to join the rest of their menagerie in orbit.  Tumors in their ovaries proved on biopsy to be clumps of human cells.

She could see Camille down the short hallway, giving one of the babies a bottle.  The engineering staff had designed simulated mothers to feed and snuggle with the infants.  Staff members took turns operating these in order to teach the babies how to interact with real human beings. The entire staff now pulled nursery duty, sharing the responsibility of feeding and caring for the infants.

The original two babies were smiling and cooing for their caretakers, robustly demonstrating normal development.  Pleister demanded that he be allowed direct contact with the infants since he was already contaminated.  This was an issue that defied solution.  While Pleister had certainly been heavily exposed to the Iagan environment, he hadn’t been gestated inside a borgette.  It was unclear how long the infants should be observed for effects from their contamination, and equally unclear whether direct contact with them would prolong Pleister’s isolation.  CHA would have to make this call.

Her hands felt shaky and her head light.  Her tests were nearing completion and she had thus far met with resounding success.  The virus appeared ideal.  It did not harm Iagan species and readily entered any human cells it touched.  To infect a worm, she fed it infected cells.  The infected cells did not survive well inside the worms, but a few were able to enter the worm’s storage areas under the cuticle and infect human cells already present. 

It took several tries to infect a contaminated borgette by feeding it a worm.  Now the borgette’s tumor was shrinking.  It was difficult to run the tests secretly but she made sure that no one was watching.  It was impressive how effective a foul personality could be in securing confidentiality.

Camille glanced up guardedly when she approached. Her coworkers had learned to dread her temper over the past weeks  “The babies are feeding okay?” Her voice was brusque, unfriendly.

“They seem to be.”  Camille smiled at the infant through the viewing glass. “Pleister was a cute baby.  This one is starting to reach for things.”

Imelda nodded curtly, peering at the plump infant.  It WAS cute.  “Yeah, we have a regular assembly line of maintenance workers now.”

Camille frowned.  “Lighten up Imelda.  What’s been wrong with you lately?  You were bad before, but...” Camille examined her more closely, visibly becoming alarmed. “Have you been eating?  You look like the walking dead!  For crying out loud, Imelda, this wasn’t your fault.  Are you sure you don’t need to talk with Fish?  The last message said that Jinks and
Caldwell are coming on the next transport.  You should let them take over and get some rest.”

Imelda did not answer.  Ever since the last transport everyone had been ignoring her rudeness, trying to act sympathetic despite her most obnoxious efforts. 
Caldwell must have sent them a message telling them to be nice or something.  That didn’t make sense though.  Why would he have done that?

#

Post called her with the news.  “Two more.  Definite tumors at their last egg-laying.  Egg production is down to fifty percent.  One of them is located near the coastline.  It looks like we’re getting close to a marine contamination.”

Imelda shut her eyes.  Underwater babies next.  There wouldn’t be anything that they could do about that.  The babies would drown.  More borgettes, tiny ones and larger ones, were producing defective eggs.  A few eggs had been analyzed and found to contain human bone marrow cells.  They could trap the obviously contaminated borgettes.  Hundreds of others continued to spread the contagion silently.

One report hinted at an even more ghastly possible future for Iago.  Some of the borgette eggs contained a mix of human and Iagan cells.  The resulting embryos were a mix of Iagan and human body structures.  So far none of these had been viable, but…

This was it, then.  Time to act.  If she waited for
Caldwell’s return it would be too late.  He would stop her if he found out.  She had completed her homework as best she could. Everyone was stymied with no viable solutions. Even the computer hadn’t been able to come up with a better answer.

“Post, I want to go down with you on the next specimen collection.”

“Sure.  I was kind of hoping you would.   One of these monsters weighs about fifteen tons.  She’s going to be tricky to capture.”

She nodded, her heart pounding.  Self-doubt almost made her decide to abandon her plan, but the vision of gelatinous eggs sinking beneath ocean waves spurred her on.

#

The spacesuit again.  This made the fourth time she had gone down since the accident.  She was almost getting used to it.

The borgette was indeed huge, the largest that they had ever attempted to capture.  The procedure was becoming almost routine now.  This time they rode two ships, carrying a perimeter of nets to entrap the beast.

She did not have much time for idle thoughts during the next two hours as they coordinated their landing with the mobile groundbase units.  Sleeping Iagans did not interfere as the huge borgette flopped out of the bog to impact the flimsy barrier.

The biologists waited just long enough for the gas to tame her and rushed out with IV lines and cables to keep her alive while she was hoisted away from the waiting worms.

After the rush of activity slowed, Imelda paused on the soft ground to watch as the limp behemoth was carried aloft.

On planet.  She looked about her, absorbing the scene.  The enormity of it all suddenly squeezed her.  A strange, amazing beauty surrounded her.  She had almost forgotten the azure blue of Iago’s sky, the green of the vegetation, the inviting noises that a brook and gentle breeze could make.  

There was a small vial concealed on the leg of her spacesuit.  A few worms nosed about her feet and legs, checking to make sure she was still alive and unfit to eat.  She glanced down at them briefly, holding still so that more would collect.

The other biologists were turning away from the sight of the ship overhead.  Heart pounding, she quickly reached for the vial and opened it, dropping it on the ground. As she watched, the worms quickly cleaned up the spot leaving the vial shiny clean.

She casually moved her boot to crush the vial, leaving only unrecognizable splinters.

She walked back to the spaceship slowly, wondering if what she had done was wrong.  It didn’t matter now anyway.  There was no going back.

She repeated the procedure at the next bog, and the next, and the next.  They were to land at ten more bogs in the next two weeks and she left a crushed vial at each one.

#

Fish frowned.  He looked up at her briefly and back down at his fists.  Ever since the first babies had
been lifted from Iago’s surface he had remained withdrawn during their sessions.  Imelda was no longer sure if the sessions were for her or for him.

She couldn’t stand it.  “What’s wrong, Fish?

“What?  What do you mean?”

She sighed.  “You know what I mean.  What’s wrong with you?”

He shook his head.  “I’m the psychiatrist.  You’re the patient.”

“Don’t you hate your job sometimes?” she asked.

He looked up at her.  “Why should I hate it?”

“Treating people like cardboard cutouts, a set of symptoms requiring cookbook therapy who must comply or be eternally rejected.  You know what I mean.”

Fish looked back down at his fists.  “I don’t treat people that way.”

“Oh?  Look at me, Fish.  Why do you think I give you such a hard time?  Really?”

“You hate me,” he answered.

Imelda smiled.  “I don’t hate you.  I just don’t like you.”  She touched his hand.  “How many patients have you treated in your career?  Hundreds?  Thousands?  Don’t their faces blur for you after a while?”

He stared at her, not answering.

“But you remember me, don’t you?  Everyone remembers me, because I’m a god awful, nasty, obnoxious woman who challenges them.  I don’t mind being hated, Fish.  At least hate’s an emotion.  It’s better than being invisible.”

His eyes went back down.  “That’s a foolish attitude, Imelda.  Perhaps you did not get enough attention growing up and you are still trying to compensate.  Belligerence only begets belligerence.”

“I know.”  She sighed again, looking around at an ornamental plant that sat ignored in the corner.  “I’ve been thinking of turning over a new leaf, trying new tactics.”

“Such as?”

“I don’t kn
ow yet.  Before coming to Iago I was bored with people and their blathering idiocies.  Now I’m bored with me.  Maybe it’s because I’m older and I can’t be cute anymore.  Or maybe it’s what happened on Iago IV.  This is a good time to give me advice, Fish.  I’m bleeding inside.”

Fish stared at her, hesitant.  “I don’t know Imelda. You usually take what I say and twist it until it’s something else. I want to help but I don’t know how.  You make things difficult for both of us.”

Imelda was distraught, almost.  “I’m a putrefaction of humanity, Fish.”

“And I am worthless to help you.  Damn you, Imelda.  You were right.  You didn’t lie.  I received a note from headquarters.  Your old psychiatrist, she WAS a lesbian. After you left she was assigned to counsel a group of women in assault training and she ended up organizing a group orgy. Now she’s advertising group therapy on Syned.”

He paused, troubled, hesitant.  “You’re right about me too.  I hate my job.  I hate people who can’t face life, who hide from things that aren’t there.  You’re not like that.  You face the worst of life head on and handle it.   I know the agony you have been through these past few months.  Trefarbe, well, she has her own personality defects.  She says whatever it takes to excuse her own actions.  But you?  You worry me.  I can’t get your personality matrix to work.  Please don’t shut me out.   I want to help you.  What are you feeling?”  His eyes were intent, begging.

Imelda paused, wondering what she could say to him, what he would believe.  “Professional disappointment, I suppose. I hated the borgettes at first.  Now I’m angry that we hurt them. It’s not a crime to be disgusting. That is a peaceful planet down there.  We’ve almost ruined it.”

Fish shook his head.  “CHA will take over this project as soon as they get their personnel here.  Are you going to stay?”

She nodded  “I have no choice
.  Someone has to protect the Iagans from us. We’re poison to them.  A little bit of stupidity would be a catastrophe here.”

“I’m leaving, Imelda.  I’m quitting psychiatry.  I’m gonna raise racehorses like I always wanted to.”

“You should’ve done it a long time ago.”

He paused, staring at her, his gaze penetrating.  “You know, Imelda, you are real to me.  The first real person I’ve known in a long time.  I’m going to miss you.”

Startled, Imelda stared back, then smiled at her own words.  “Same here, Fish.”

#

Caldwell was due back at any time.  He had said that the CHA investigators would be coming with him.  It was still too early to be sure how successful she had been, but there hadn’t been any new tumors found among the borgettes on Iago IV.  The fifteen babies in the nursery were straining the resources of the staff, but most of the personnel had developed a real attachment to them, spending much of their off time at the nursery playing with their charges. 

No one was certain what would happen to the babies.  A few of the most recent blood specimens from one of the oldest infants showed circulating cells containing Iagan DNA.  Pleister’s wounds were well healed, but one biopsy had been suspicious for persistent contamination.  The younger infants appeared clear of contamination but the recent results brought this into question.  Iagan biology depended on symbiosis.  Human biology did not.  Fear was growing that Pleister and his infinite series of clones might never be allowed to rejoin humanity.  

Imelda sighed.  A few angry staff were volunteering to enter the contamination chambers permanently as adoptive parents.  Pleister’s girlfriend wanted to marry him and become mom for all of the infants.  Computer models of the contamination were inconclusive but suggested that there was a remote chance, less than 1%, of Iagan cells successfully colonizing human beings, and an equally slim chance that the cells could be transmitted human to human.  While this risk might be acceptable to an ignorant like Trefarbe, for an alien contamination any risk above zero was too great.  Biochemistry was working on a solution but didn’t have one yet.