The Tenth Legion (Book 6, Progeny of Evolution) (30 page)

Ethan smirked.
“In the interests of sleep research, eh, brother?”

Toby winked
back with reddening cheeks. “Of course—what else?”

After the
small talk of working out sleeping arrangements and agreeing on
meeting for dinner, Ed got Doctor Kelso and Andrea Small, the new
director of Rocket City, on web cam, further ordering that no
humans attend. “Until we understand the help we can give humans,
it’s best not to worry them.”

Andrea Small,
a prim Oriental lycan whose predecessor had died of the virus, sat
behind a desk. Off-camera, key members of her staff groused around,
shuffling papers or taking seats.

“Are we
ready?” Ed asked in a tone designed to spur things along.

Andrea looked
up with a square saffron-toned face and dark eyes that observed the
world through narrow, angled slits. “Yes, sir,” she said. “All
set.”

“Good.
Assuming the predicted solar activity happens at the earliest of
the three predicted dates, can we convey the complete community to
Mars?”

“We can begin
transporting by summer’s end.” She consulted transcribed notes.
“The Event isn’t for five years, at the earliest. We should have
plenty of time.”

“What about
logistics? Do we have what we need to sustain the colonies
independently of Earth?” Ed asked.

“The old plan
had the present colonies being self-sustaining within two years.
With the prospect of the anticipated influx tempered by five more
years, we can make it by 2107.”

“What about
the work on Space Gate?” Ed asked.

Andrea’s mouth
formed a red-lined circle of surprise. “Sir, are you sure you want
to discuss…?”

“In view of
what we face, free exchange of information is more important than
secrecy. We have a common end here. You may speak of the
project.”

Andrea
retrieved a brochure handed to her by someone in the room, put on a
set of rimless reading glasses, and read aloud, “Space Gate is a
project to bend space for transporting material instantly over
large distances. We have gates at Rocket City and the Mars 1
colony. Through them, we have delivered up to a ton of material at
one time at a cost of a hundred megawatts of electrical
energy.”

“What about
people? By weight, there are over twenty in a ton.” Lorna
asked.

“As of now,
nothing organic has arrived alive. We’ve tried a variety of
organisms, from bacteria to sheep. The other drawback is the energy
expenditure. We can’t devote the amount we’d like because of the
commitments to supply the grid.”

“I’ll get the
legal department working on reducing them,” Ed volunteered. Turning
to Lorna, he asked his new security chief. “What threats do you see
and what do we have to do to protect our facilities and
people?”

“As you know,
the story about the predictions made the news before we got back
from Oom. Public opinion doesn’t put much credence in them. For
now, this works to our advantage. But, when the date nears, we
predict there’ll be more concern. To be safe, procurement is
letting contracts for projects to strengthen defenses on the
island, at Rocket City, and key labs, including the Orlando
headquarters complex. In order not to raise suspicions, they’re
coded as infrastructure-related.”

Ed returned to
the monitor. “Dr. Kelso. Tell us about the physiological effects of
the voyage to Mars.”

“We know adult
vampires and lycans are not adversely affected. The experience of
over three hundred successful voyages proves that. Hybrids, and
humans, still pose challenges.”

“How so?” Ed
asked.

“In the case
of both hybrids and humans, radiation is the culprit. Adult hybrids
are minimally affected. In fact, the older they are, the better,
because with less lifespan remaining, the radiation has less time
to take effect.”

What a great
relief that would be to Karla and Thomas.

“And humans?”
Ed asked.

“Technology
has improved since the first voyages, but there will still be
losses. The latest information, based solely on calculations, since
there are no volunteers, is a twenty-percent mortality rate from
all causes within five years and forty-percent within ten. Those
remaining can expect reasonable life spans.”

“That’s a
dramatic improvement,” Thomas said.

“But at the
same time explains why humans still won’t risk travel beyond the
moon.” Doctor Kelso’s face became serious. “There is another
problem. Because none have ever made the trip, we don’t have any
idea what effects, if any, there will be on children, human hybrid
and pre-emergents, not to mention pregnant females.”

A cold hand
clutched at Lorna’s heart. Her voice cracked when she asked,
“Pregnant females? What do you mean?”

Dr. Kelso
became uneasy. He was aware of Lorna’s condition. After a hard
swallow while organizing what had to be said, he began, “No child
or pregnant woman has made the trip. We’ve no idea what the effects
of radiation or bone loss from lack of gravity would be.” Pausing,
he avoided Lorna’s eyes. “We cannot speak to the bone loss, but
studies of the radiation effects go back to the Hiroshima and
Nagasaki detonations. They conclude the adverse effects on fetuses
and the young are orders of magnitude more deadly. Right now, we’re
unsure if any child can survive the trip to Mars.”

Ed was
instantly on his feet. “Solving this will command our highest
priority,” The Chairman said. “We owe the children this much.”

Dr. Kelso’s
hard, tan face showed nothing when he said, “Of course we will.
There’s much to be learned before we become alarmed. We’ll
experiment with animals.”

After the
meeting, Ed walked with Lorna down by the waterfront.

“Where are we
going?” he asked.

“To walk, just
walk. I can’t be still right now.”

They left the
mansion through the front door, passing rows of bougainvillea
worming their way up the palms flanking the road leading to the
house. They colored the trunks, from immaculate white to orange and
red to royal purple, lush and arrogantly vivid. At road’s end stood
the village. The cream-colored stucco walls and red tile roofs of
the buildings reflected the late morning sun. Beyond that, the
waterfront basked under a soundless outpouring of light. The dark,
wood piers fingered out into the crystal-clear sea. The shadow of
the wharfs flickered across the shimmering water, turning the
aquamarine into a darker, murkier blue. A steel pointed triangle,
the stubby rust-stained bow of a lighter peeked from behind a
larger hull. The previous night, the supply freighter docked on the
weekly stopover from the mainland.

The street
they followed let out onto an open space at the foot of the tourist
pier. Lorna remembered the place where pleasure craft and
boutique-sized cruise ships dropped off tourists for a run through
the shops or a tour of the public area of the mansion. This time,
there weren’t any jostling multilingual crowds escorted by ship’s
crew in crisp white uniforms. The waterfront sat, quiet as an empty
church, still as a landscape painting. A lonely seagull squawked,
startled by their approach, taking flight from the corner of a
roof. Besides the gull, the endless murmur of the ocean made the
only other sound. They walked to the end of the pier, leaned on the
railing, contemplating the distant crash of waves on the beach
across the bay.

They remained
side by side for several minutes. Then Ed spoke. “It’ll be all
right.”

“How can we
know?” she answered.

“We don’t, but
we have the full resources of the world’s greatest corporation to
devote to a solution. If one exists, we’ll find it.”

“What if we
don’t? If we can’t leave until the children are grown. What then?
Do we die?”

“I don’t
believe we came this far to be left behind to die. But, if that is
to be, we’re a family. We’ll stay together.”

A flock of
seagulls fell upon a school of fish. The shiners scattered in
skipping splashes radiating from the killing zone. “You know,”
Lorna said, “before we got back together, I planned to get rid of
them. It’s not too late.”

Turning at the
sound of a deep inhale, she watched the flesh draw back across the
massive bone structure. His eyes were like two green, electric
arcs. They displayed a restrained intensity that seemed to always
be just under the surface, like something held in a cage, but the
intensity seemed more fired up than usual. Lorna feared whatever
itched to break out might just succeed this time. “Don’t even think
such a thing,” he said.

“Our lives
would become much simpler. We can have more children.”

The tension in
his face grew, almost to the point of pain. “If you do this, you’ll
never forgive yourself. I know.”

“How?”

Leaning over
the rail, he stared into the languid, crystal-clear water. Lorna
followed his gaze. They could see thirty feet down to the boulders
on the bottom. A hog sized grouper drifted lazily along the
bottom.

After a
minute, he said in a low, tense voice, “When Bobby was three,
Miriam became pregnant. She was forty and starting to feel old when
we learned of it. I did everything to reassure her she was still
attractive and how happy I was about the pregnancy, especially when
we learned the baby was a girl. I truly wanted the child.”

Ed stopped.
The grouper pulled at something in the rocks, stirring up the
bottom. “Six weeks into the pregnancy, she began talking about an
abortion. I suggested using a surrogate mother, but she complained
about the inconvenience of a baby coming so late in life. With all
the resources at our disposal, the argument never rang true. I
believe she just didn’t want another child. For two months, for
every waking minute, she talked of nothing but getting rid of our
baby. She promised she’d hate the baby while never forgiving me for
making her go through the pregnancy. In a moment of weakness or
exhaustion, I don’t remember which, I agreed. In those days, a
husband’s permission was needed to get an abortion at a corporation
or a government facility.”

The imperious
and calculating face of the Miriam, familiar to Lorna from the
portraits in the mansion surfaced in her mind, illuminated like a
museum display. Having become familiar with the cold, strong-willed
eyes, accompanied by the firm set of the wide mouth, Lorna
understood how she could wear down the resistance of someone who
wanted to please his beloved.

“The second I
agreed, I had regret.” Ed continued. “Rushing to the clinic, I
arrived too late. Anticipating my concession, she’d had everything
expedited through her personal servants.”

Lorna pictured
a Chinese dowager empress, entrenched in palace politics for
decades, with a retinue of attendants whose positions in the
household depended on the maintenance of her status and
wellbeing.

“When I
arrived, the procedure was complete,” he said. “I’ll never forget
the expression of triumph on her face. There’s never been a day
when I don’t think about what happened. But this is the irony. Over
time, she, not I, experienced the brunt of the guilt.

“Life between
us was never the same. After a few years, she descended into a
world of prescription drugs. In the last years, I believe they
became what allowed her to face life. We took separate bedrooms. I
forgave her as well as myself, but the regret of what happened
never let go. On her deathbed, she lamented the loss—no, murder—of
our daughter.

“That’s how I
know,” Ed concluded.

Lorna laid her
hand on Ed’s forearm. He was right. Wondering what the twins would
have grown up to be, she’d spend a lifetime wallowing in guilt.
“Then we’ll do something else,” she said, clamping down on his arm
for emphasis. “We’re a family.”

“We’re a
family,” he echoed.

Putting her
arms around him, she allowed herself to enjoy the warmth of his
embrace, muttering under her breath, “Cithara, help us.”

* * * *

“What do we
have to do?” Ed demanded from the image on the monitor. Two months
had passed.

“We’re not
sure,” Doctor Kelso replied. “The embryos didn’t survive the
voyage. In zero gravity, bone development nearly ceases. Upon
landing, what development occurred couldn’t support the fetus. I
believe that tells us what we need to know.”

“Okay, I
understand pregnant females are unwise to attempt the trip if they
value the unborn children, but what about youngsters?”

“The data’s
incomplete, but every indication is no hybrid younger than twenty
years old can safely make the voyage. Pre-emergents cannot go until
after they come out.”

Ed dropped his
head in despair. Then the Chairman took control. Raising upright,
he said, “Keep up the good work.” With a quick, wrist-snapping
gesture, he terminated the meeting.

Lorna took his
hand. They walked to the Spartan bedroom, the place where
everything had begun for them, and surveyed the overlook of the
harbor. The supply ship navigated toward the accustomed mooring. A
security launch provided escort.

“Valeria
arrives today on the jet with Cynthia,” Ed announced with cheer he
apparently didn’t feel.

“That leaves
only Ethan back in Florida?” Lorna asked.

“Yes, along
with his family and Toby’s. They’ll join us later this month.”

Lorna shook her head in mild dismay. “The
way Wendy and Jamie flit back and forth between here and Orlando,
you’d never suspect we were up to our butts in trouble.”

There was a
knock on the door sill. Lorna and Ed turned to see Ulbert. “Sir,”
the diminutive man said, alarm in his voice. “You must see this.”
Picking up a remote, he turned on the monitor.

The set of
GNN’s most popular talk show took shape with the regular female
moderator seated in the middle of a generously cushioned wrought
iron couch. A man sat on either side of her. Lorna recognized the
president of General Electronics.