Geminus Anomaly (Novella)

MEDICAL

Confidential | 04:40 Hours

"Laboratory Report zero point three. Science officer: Ava Prescott, MD. The date is o-nine, twenty-three, two thousand and twenty-seven."

A small black microphone is taped crookedly to the metal table in front of Prescott. The adhesive strip had pulled up part of the shine, peeling away the cheap gloss when they tried to adjust it before the red light blinked on.

"Commanding Director Robert Burke also present." Unlike Prescott, the Director didn't have a microphone pointed at his mouth. He carried two things in with him and placed them out on the metal: a file and a large white mug of coffee.

He hasn't touched either since the recording started.

The Director made a vague motion with his hand, which Prescott took as her cue to continue.

"To answer your first question, yes, Subject 78-B is displaying patterns typical of early-stage healing. Increased adrenaline levels, tremors, heart palpitations. Everything that can register normally is doing so." Ava swallows loudly from her end of the table. The small cup of water she poured earlier wasn't enough to cure her dry throat. "The only abnormality that either myself or assisting MD Adkens could find is the response to blood testing. We could not compare the samples with the blood found on the team. We couldn't locate a wound of any kind."

"How does that make it abnormal?" The director's eyes slid from the file before him to Prescott's blue ones. It could be in comfort, maybe.

"On a wild animal that is extremely rare. We estimated that Subject 78-B is an adult. She would have mating marks at the very least."

"How are the members of the team that found this Subject 78-B?" The man on the other end of the phone sounds almost like he actually fears the answer. A change since the last few times we've spoken like this, both the director and the voice never allowed emotion to get involved. It had always been Ava or Stanley who showed too much.

A change that the director doesn't respond to. The directs jaw clenches, and his back straightens.

"Team C was cleared through medical an hour ago. Nothing to report."

"And the cleanup?" Ava's eyes lock onto the small microphone. She didn't want to look too long at the red blinking light at the end of the table. She didn't want to look too long at the director or his file, either. And she sure as hell didn't want to look at the phone the voice was coming out of.

"One of our vehicles was damaged in the-"

"You and I both know that I am not talking about the equipment, Director. Answer my question."

"Only Prescott, Adkens and I know about any abnormalities."

"If anyone does come across anything that isn't routine-"

"We will handle it. The same way we are handling the systems backups."

"Yes, I heard about our TRACE problem." There's a rustle of papers on the other end of the line. A harsh low whisper follows it. Another person was present. "I've just received your full report on Subject 78-B. She's remarkable."

"She is." Ava nods slowly. Her fingers clench under the table. The only reactions she allows herself to have while the red light is on.

The voice takes another thirty seconds to eat up the silence. The room is too small and too clean. It smells like disinfectant and metallic water. A smell Ava should be used to.

She couldn't get the copper smell out of her nose. There was so much blood. Stanley's face in the surgery said everything that Ava couldn't now.

"When will our systems be back up?" The voice cracked on the line is sexless. It doesn't sound old or young or has even a hint of an accent. It had a perfect tone and pitch like a singer who's discovered her reflection. Too pretty. Too perfect.

"We have out Datatechs working on that as we speak." The Director answered that one.

The sexless voice cracks over the phone. "And the drive?"

"Cormac disconnected the drive allowing the servers to come back online. No one noticed. He did as he was instructed."

"Wonderful. Let us know the moment. Subject 78-B shows signs of the moment, will you? Ava?"

"Yes, of course." She says without batting an eyelash. Because Ava kept the information to herself, the TRACE could access all the data it needed. With or without her.

"We will be speaking again." The red blinking light goes out.

Ava stands quickly, knocking her chair back on its wheels. Her hands shake as she pours the water into her glass. A large hand reaches over, steadying her grip on the water pitcher.

The director pours her a glass before taking the large pitcher from Ava.

"You promised. When we started this, you said that no one would get hurt."

"They won't." She knocks back the glass, ice and all. The flush in her cheeks deepen as her emotions simmer over. "Cormac did what he had to. Stanley did what he had to, and now we are doing what we have to."

"I don't like this. That thing isn't normal. She's alien, Robert." Avas' grip goes white—a small crack forms in the cup where her fingers have pressed.

"She won't be our problem much longer. When she wakes up, they will come to collect her, and it will all be done." The director raised his hands, offering the little support she could, but the bottom line was the same. "We volunteer for this. We did this. Remember that when you have moments of doubt."

"Not all of us are drones. I wanted answers, not blackmail deals. This wasn't what I was promised." Ava made the same loose wrist motion that the director has done earlier.

"Wasn't it?" The director collected his file from the table, his hand passing over the Tents seal on the front. The corner of the thing is stained an awful brown. "You were one of the first, Ava. Nothings changed. I want your report by morning and everything from the Med Bay scrubbed. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

Director's communication crackles to life.

"Director, this is Cormac."

The Director glances at Prescott, whose grip on the small plastic cup has turned the rim against itself. Her eye's wide. He touches his earpiece.

"Sir, we have activity in Corridor A17. Someones is trying to access the personal response systems there. Three failed attempts so far and counting. They're trying to raise a code red."

"Cormac." The slightest hint of anger creeps into the Directors' voice.

"We have a breach, sir."