Thunder (9 page)

“Sorry, Charles. I was having problems with Everling's lab,” Lilith said. The redheaded researcher swiftly took her seat at the other end and slid her long legs under the table.

Ganston ran his finger over his halo-tablet, opening two new data points. “What's the latest intel on that project of his?”

Even though each person at the table remained loyal to his cause, Ganston required them to carry out projects that would put them on the wrong side of the Company if ever exposed, thus assuring their allegiance to him.

Lilith shook her head. “Not much, I'm afraid. He keeps it boxed up tight.”

“I expect more from you. I need information that can give us the upper hand in our negotiations. Over the last 150 years the DNA gene pool inside this mountain has degraded to the point where two or three generations down the line, there
will be no saving this colony. Everling's job is supposed to be finding a cure. I want to know what detaining these Landers has to do with it!” He slammed a fist on the table and the water in the flask vibrated.

Lilith flinched. “I know he's doing experiments on Landers. But that's not common knowledge, and you have to be part of the project to get inside. I don't have clearance.”

Ganston looked around the room. “Does anyone else here find slavery repugnant?”

The participants nodded their heads.

“Then why are we as the Political Council allowing it to take place?”

Byron, the bald man to Ganston's right, raised a finger. “Because it's been going on for years. I remember when it first started eighteen years ago. They said the program was to help rehabilitate these vagrants with their memory loss.”

“They disappear, but none have ever been released that I know of,” said Hurst, the long-haired man to Ganston's left. “None of the common people in the Mountain even know Landers exist. Everling has kept the populace in the dark all these years. That's the first clue this is wrong.”

“Everling labeled them as a danger to the general public,” Lilith said.

“Since when did he care about the people outside the mountain? This will be a case in point when we come out openly against Everling's leadership. He is spending millions in bio-coin to maintain a system of slavery.” Ganston played his words carefully. He was planning a Council showdown, and it would bolster his plans if more factions expressed discontent and came on board with his plan for the outside colony.

“Has anyone ever seen or interacted with any Landers? Are they as dangerous as he says?” Ganston looked at each person in turn.

They each shook their heads.

“I saw one male subject last year. He was a young guy about twenty or so. He didn't look or act dangerous.” Lilith shifted in her chair. “As a matter of fact, I saw him again this year, and he didn't look like any kind of threat then either. But at the time he was sitting in a holding cell, so that could bring about a docile demeanor.”

Ganston set his jaw. “You're letting me down! I need specific information that makes Everling look bad.”

Hurst chuckled. “Everling is looking pretty good lately.”

Ganston slowly turned his head in the man's direction.

He recoiled. “No, I really mean it. Have you seen him? I don't know if he has a woman on the side since his wife took sick, but he's looking refreshed and renewed. If I didn't know better, I'd say he may even be dyeing his hair.”

Ganston growled his displeasure and stabbed a finger at his notes.

Lilith sat up straight. “I do know there have been a large number of unexplained missing subjects in the Prison Unit.”

He stopped taking notes. “How do you know this if you can't get in there?”

“His logistics filter through my science procurement department when there are changes for food, clothing, bedding, and such. Even the number of synthesized meals has decreased radically. I'd say they're losing subjects at the rate of four or five a day.”

“Could he just be starving them?” Ganston rubbed his chin.

“No. There's no profitable reason to starve test subjects. Fit and healthy is always more desirable than weak and sick,” Lilith said, leaning back in her chair.

“Could they have been released?”

She shook her head. “There haven't been any authorized transports. Besides, Everling never released a test subject in all the years I've been at the helm of procurement.”

“Could there be deaths in the program?” Ganston tapped his chin. This program of Everling's seemed to be taking on a more sinister tone.

“There have been sporadic deaths in the past. I've seen the records. But if this is a rash of deaths, he must have them stacked up in there like cordwood, because there sure haven't been any requisitions to dispose of them,” Lilith said with a look of horror.

Ganston leaned back in his chair. “I think I know where I can get some answers.”

Bethany stared at the pile of dust on the gurney. She ripped off the filter mask and threw it at the biohazard can. The mask missed the opening and skittered across the floor like an upended turtle. She pursed her lips. Her husband had lost four subjects this week and they were still no closer to solving the instability than six months ago before she became ill.

Stemple and Noah stepped from behind the bio-shield.

“We've done every variation imaginable on those samples, Dr. Bethany—uh, Dr. Everling.” Stemple's face went crimson.

Bethany had never noticed Stemple so flustered. She smiled wryly. “Bethany will do.”

“Excuse me?” Stemple said.

“Just call me Bethany. You can drop the Dr. Everling. There's only one of him,” Bethany said as she smiled fondly at her husband.

“Thank you, ma'am—uh, Bethany. I still don't know why the subjects won't hold together.” Stemple's expression was filled with panic.

Noah glared at Stemple then turned to Bethany. “Do you, my lovely partner, have anything intelligent to add to this conversation?”

Stemple looked as though he'd been slapped.

Bethany fingered some calculations on her halo-tablet. “Well, part of our accelerated maturing process seems to be triggering the same acceleration of Hayflick. We have the last test group coming online in two days. We've reworked the enzyme sequence to slow down maturation.”

Noah smiled. “I'm glad to have you back in the lab. With you helping me, we can solve this.”

Conflicting emotions roiled inside her. Bethany was sure she'd known the proper procedures to bring this project to fruition, but Noah had been a hindrance since day one. If he'd listened, she could have secured samples of the child's DNA long ago. She could have been breeding a Mountain of immortals by now and the cancer might never have happened in the first place.

Deplore her husband's inaction or herald his solving her cancer?

Charles Ganston sat facing the virtual window in his office as he waited for his niece. It reminded him of the area
outside the Mountain where they were secretly building the community.

The door to the outer office slid into the wall, and Jax hurried into the office. “Mr. Ganston, we've secured five more 3-D tooling machines.”

Ganston smiled. With the raw materials they'd squirreled away and the full manpower roster, he could literally build the whole basic town. “We can get everyone into the new town in less than a month,” he said.

“Sir, do you think we should push it that close? We don't know if there'll be any structural or geological problems.”

Jax was one of the younger generation. He'd started out enthusiastic about the secret project, but as launch time moved closer Ganston noticed the young man's enthusiasm taking a sharp turn. The building blocks of downfalls. Jax might need to be replaced.

“I've done mountains of due diligence, if you don't mind the pun. Everything is on schedule,” Ganston said. He tapped his fingers on the desk.

Jax glanced over to the model layout spread across the eight-by-eight-foot table area on the other side of Ganston's office. “You haven't discussed how this is all going to run. I know the finances to support this project are coming from your family inheritance and the group you've put together. Are you going to create an organization to compete with the Company?”

“No one organization should ever be the absolute ruler without people having a say. We can learn from past mistakes and avoid those pitfalls. We will have an elected government. Those specific points will be part of our New World Constitution.”

“New World Constitution?” Jax scrolled through the files on his halo-tablet. “I don't seem to have anything about that particular proposal in my notes.”

Ganston walked over to the community model. “I was planning on introducing it here.” He pointed to the building at the center. “This will be the center of our new government.”

Jax frowned as he looked at the model. “What do we need a government for? We don't have one here and everything works fine. When there are problems the Company solves them.”

“But the Company will not be a part of our community. The old structure from our history before the Sorrows will be a wonderful pattern if handled correctly.” Ganston smiled as he glanced over the model.

Jax moved to stand at his side. “What does ‘correctly' look like?”

“Basic points, my boy. To start with we will be isolationists. We will mind our own business and keep everyone out of ours. And no infections!”

“Infections?” Jax asked. “You mean diseases?”

Ganston turned to face him, his hands clasped behind his back. “No, I mean foreigners. Historically they came here and infected our founding generation with ideas and cultures that were counterproductive. They won't be allowed in our new country. Only people born and bred here and their progeny can be citizens.”

Jax knitted his brows together. “What happens to the Landers that have come here? As I hear it, many of them suffer from some sort of amnesia and the Company created a program to help rehabilitate them. It must be working because none of them stay in the Mountain.”

Ganston frowned. “Landers will—”

The intercom beeped. He moved to his desk and ran his hand over the sensor embedded in the surface next to the halo-screen console. “Yes?” He glanced at his wrist and tapped the clock interface. Perfect timing.

“Your five o'clock appointment is here, sir,” the receptionist said.

“Send her in.” Ganston smiled as he stood. He pushed a button on the operating panel of his desk, the model lowered, and the cover closed, creating a table-like surface.

“I need to talk to my niece alone,” Ganston said to Jax.

Jax nodded. He swiped the sensor and the office door slid open for him to exit.

Treva strolled in. She and Ganston met in the center of the room and hugged.

“Uncle Charles, I haven't seen you in weeks, and what's the first thing I need to do? Separate you and my new boss from coming to blows.” Treva cuffed him in the elbow.

Ganston smiled. “The old coot is just lucky you were there to save him.”

Treva shook her head and chuckled. “I'm sure you didn't bring me here to trade combat stories. What's going on? I'm in the middle of a rather large project. I've only got about five minutes to spare, but you said it was urgent, so I came.”

“I am finally ready to show you my next project,” Ganston said. A grin crossed his face.

“So we both have new projects,” she said.

Ganston pointed toward the table as he pressed the button to retrieve the model. “I present the city of Stone Braide.”

The tabletop parted in the center and the sides folded down
into the frame. The model rose with the soft whine of a servomotor and locked into place. Treva moved toward the table, and Ganston watched with amusement as she studied the miniature buildings and businesses complete with streets, scenery, and homes.

She turned. “Where'd you get the name Stone Braide?”