5

The Mountain

Everling tensed, arms still raised.

As though it sneezed, a puff of dust rose about eight inches high along the full length of the desiccated body, then collapsed back in on itself. The body turned to a pile of dust.

Everling turned toward the examination tray and relaxed. All was accounted for. He’d learned by trial and error that tissue and objects moved from close proximity could survive the reclamation process. He sighed. There probably wouldn’t be any better data from this subject than from the last few in this batch. He needed to dispose of the leftovers and get a new set of subjects right away. The serum trials on himself were netting results. The cure for Bethany’s cancer was close.

He looked down. Some of the dust filtered from the table and onto the front of his shoes.

Treva Gilani returned. “Should I take it now, sir?”

Everling nodded then knocked the dust from his shoes. His head throbbed. He couldn’t figure out how to stop this process from claiming subjects. “Yes, dispose of the dust and get these samples catalogued and into my lab.”

“Do you think you can re-create the sampling?” Stemple tapped some numbers into the virtual keyboard of his halo-tablet, and a 3-D model of the body appeared above its surface. He aimed the tablet at the samples on the cart. They appeared above the original image with laser leads showing where they came from in the body.

Everling stripped off his gloves. “Why didn’t they call me when the subject first died? I lost precious time.”

“The attending intern stepped out for ten minutes to help in another lab,” Stemple said.

The doctor averted his glance. “I’m sorry for being short with you. I had such high hopes for this group. I know there are a few left, but we’re going to have to start over.” He shook his head. “Do we have any new arrivals to cull DNA?”

Stemple waved his hand across the halo-tablet. The 3-D model faded and charts took its place. “All we have left are originals. They’re just not compatible for creating sample groups.”

“Increase the bounty. There have to be more Landers around. Those idiot peasants need monetary encouragement.” Everling started to pace.

“I’ve researched our claim payments. Most of the incoming subjects are being located in Boroughs to the south of us.” Stemple held out his tablet.

Everling walked back to look at the screen. “Can you overlay a map?”

Stemple clicked something, and the human captures showed up as yellow dots on a topical map. The livable area outside the Mountain was nothing more than a ragtag band of settlements dotting the extreme East Coast from north to south.

“Orient me,” Everling said, waving a hand. Science was his field, not geography. He had no interest in what was left of the outside world.

Stemple rotated the map. “We’re here. All the subjects we’ve gathered in the last fifteen years have come from this area.” His finger highlighted the yellow dots going south from the Mountain’s position, approximately forty miles west of Washington, DC.

Everling studied the map. “Why are there none to the left of the longitudinal line?”

“Those are mountains. There aren’t any settlements on the western side. Or at least we don’t think so. Too much ash from the volcano over there. Historically it looked like an alien landscape. No one’s ever gone back.”

The Sorrows had happened 150 years ago. Everling rarely thought back to his youth forty years ago, let alone to the Sorrows. His ancestors had been government workers who remained safely locked in Weather Mountain as the country’s population succumbed to the ravages of the environmental catastrophes. Left to their own devices and without national leadership, most of the people outside perished, but his family had prospered in this closed environment.

Thinking about the events and the hundreds of millions of lives lost in one week’s time brought no emotion. He could do nothing about the past, but he would control the future. His longstanding project of enhancing the DNA signature of Mountain people had been set aside to focus on securing a future for his wife, but the results of one could help the other.

Everling stared off into space. “Have we tried using any more of our own patrols to capture Landers?”

“No, sir,” Stemple said. “Very ineffective. Last year we spent several months with AirStream units stationed at the beach areas most frequented as landings. A week after we suspended the patrols, peasants caught a Lander and turned him in. Remember the one who changed?”

Everling nodded. “Yes, that was the first time we learned the tattoo wasn’t permanent on all Landers. To find that out after all these years was quite shocking. How many others have we missed?”

“You have to admit it was quite brilliant of the peasants to figure out they could get paid and be gone before the Lander’s mark disappeared.”

“I believe it was just dumb luck. Those peasants were new to the hunt and didn’t know any better. Acquiring the Lander right away gave us a chance to observe his change overnight.”

“I must admit it was surprising to find their DNA reverted to the same as ours after they lost the mark,” Stemple said.

“Agreed, and having no mark makes them useless.” Everling walked to the data board and pulled the data Stemple had just inputted. “The premise is very disconcerting, though.”

“What premise, sir?”

“That they could be among us and we can’t tell the difference.”

Stemple looked up from his map, a frown etching his eyebrows together. “That is very disconcerting. There might be Landers in the Mountain and we’d never know about it.”

“Don’t worry. We’ve never been infiltrated. Our lineage is very pure.”

Stemple pushed his eyebrows up. “If you say so, sir.”

Everling tweaked some figures in the data. “Notify the AirStream units traveling the area to up the rewards by 25 percent.”

Stemple’s eyes widened. “That much, sir? We’ve never offered anywhere near that kind of compensation for Landers. How should we divide the payments?”

“Give them 25 percent bio-coin and 75 percent energy credits,” Everling said.

Stemple ran his palm over the data board’s controls to activate the panel next to Everling’s work. A list of comparisons flashed on the screen. He waved his hand across the panel to change the view to new orders.

“Hold on there.” Everling moved over to the screen. “What was that?”

Stemple ran a hand across his brow. “Just some calculations I was making on genetics.”

“I’ll be the judge of what’s important.” Everling gestured to the screen. “Put the data back up, please.”

Stemple drew his lips tight. His hand hesitated. A split second passed before he recovered his composure and called the data to the interactive screen.

Everling walked the length of the calculations, tweaking data on the screen. He clapped his hands together and spun to face Stemple with a broad grin. “You’re brilliant! It’s right here in your third section. You’ve defined the missing progression between their DNA and ours.”

“I could see it, but I didn’t understand why. We’ve genetically engineered farm animals and food grains with no problems.” Stemple ran a hand across his hair. “You’re saying we need something to bridge the gap.”

Everling smiled. “A union.”

Stemple looked confused. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Everling stared at the board. “We need a child from a Lander.”

“Well, since that is obviously not possible I suggest—”

“Oh, but it is possible.” Everling rubbed his chin. “Never had a clue they’d be this important to my work.”

“You know where there are Lander children?” The color drained from Stemple’s face.

“Get me a security team. I’ll key in the biometrics and location of the subject,” Everling said as he tapped out the details on the halo-keys.

“What kind of team—JetTrans or AirStream? How far are they going?” Stemple asked as he manipulated the security screen to order a team.

“AirStream. They’re going to Dominion Borough.” Everling moved to the far side of his lab and stared at the screen as the scanning microscope read the samples and built a 3-D model on the work surface.

“Doctor, I’ve done this experiment two dozen times. The telomerase in the Lander sample degrade when I introduce our DNA,” Stemple said. He flipped the test results onto the counter with a hint of frustration.

Everling kept his eyes on the layering model. “I’ve told you our only recourse is—”

“I won’t accept it as the only recourse. We need to have other options.” Stemple ran his hand through his hair and paced.

“Then solve the Hayflick Limit. In the meantime I’m offering a bigger bounty for Landers and sending a team to claim the child.”

“Hayflick can’t be solved. Telomeres only divide maybe a hundred times,” a female voice said.

Everling and Stemple swung in her direction. Treva Gilani stood near the doorway leading to the confinement quarters with her hands shoved in her lab coat pockets. Her auburn hair was still tied in the tight bun at the back of her head.

Everling looked over the rim of the glasses slipping down his nose. He figured a first-year lab worker was only as good as their experience time. “What do you know about telomeres, young lady?”

Treva squared her shoulders and stepped forward. “What do I know? I know the Hayflick Limit is the number of times a human cell will divide. I know the end caps on those cells are called telomeres, and every time the cell divides, those end caps get shorter until they die—thus bringing about the Hayflick Limit, which by human standards is about a hundred replications per cell. That’s why we age. And I know that in Lander DNA, telomeres replicate forever.”

Everling took off his glasses and laid them on the counter. “Aren’t you the lab tech who brought in the body? And the one who ushered away Ganston?”

Treva cleared her throat. “Yes, sir, I’m Treva Gilani. I have a bachelor’s degree in genetics and I’m about to complete the same degree in microbiology. I could be an asset to your project.” As she flipped her head, the ponytail started to slip. She quickly maneuvered it back into the bun.

Stemple moved closer, his expression blank. “I haven’t cleared you for those experiments.”

“As my professor used to say, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what you’re doing.” The young woman stepped closer. Her hand rested on the computer table as she fingered the holographic keys. Several files opened, and she flicked her finger to virtually push the pages up to the screen on the wall.

“You’re studying laminin, which holds organisms together.” She tapped the keys, opened another folder, and moved it up to the wall screen. “This experiment is for the telomerase enzyme to add DNA sequence repeats and keep those pesky telomeres from shortening themselves into extinction. When you add the two of them together, well, you’re trying to find the proverbial fountain of youth.” She appeared proud of herself.

Everling balked. She was exceptional. With a scornful expression, he looked to Stemple.

“She can be trusted. I vetted her well before bringing her on board,” Stemple said.

Everling scowled. “When were you going to tell me about a microbiologist on staff?”

Stemple shrugged. “You’ve been so busy lately I’ve hardly time to tell you about work, let alone staff.”

“Sir, I could be an asset.” Treva crossed her arms and stood confidently.

“How old are you, child?” Everling asked.

“I’m twenty, sir.” Treva pressed her lips together.

“And you’ve already got your bachelor’s degree?”

“Yes, sir, I was a child prodigy. I’ve been in college since I was thirteen.”

Everling took off his glasses. “Really? What is your IQ?”

Treva shrugged. “Last time they checked it was 165.”

Everling’s eyes widened as he turned to Stemple for verification.

Stemple nodded.

“Well, young lady, we’re not exactly looking for the fountain of youth. My wife has a form of radiation-induced cancer, and it will prove fatal in a very short time. I’m trying to extend her life until I can develop a cure.”

Treva thought a second, nodded, and moved back to the computer table. “I guess you’ve missed the latest papers by Borsen and Manhurst.” Her fingers slid through rows of university files she’d called up on the surface.

“The geneticists?” Everling moved toward the computer.

“Yes, their research shows certain cancer cells can be realigned by telomerase.” Treva closed the original files on the screen and inserted a new one.

Everling put on his glasses to study the research paper.

“So you can literally solve both problems if you can overcome Hayflick.” Treva brushed her bangs back from her eyes, looking satisfied.

Everling turned to Stemple. “Remind me to give you a raise for finding this child.”

Stemple’s shoulders relaxed and a slight smile crept across his lips.

Treva furrowed her brow. “Sir, could you forgo calling me a child? I think in this day and age, twenty is old enough to be considered a woman.”

Everling studied the research paper. “Yes, and don’t call me sir. Doctor will do.”

Treva stood with her hands in her pockets. She knew she’d overstepped the boundaries Stemple had mandated, but he was wasting too much time.

Stemple motioned her to follow him. She glanced in Everling’s direction. He’d returned to studying the screen.

Outside the Lab Section Ten confinement area, the reader scanned Stemple’s palm and right eye, then beeped. The frosted glass panel slid into the ceiling, then closed with a soft whoosh once they entered.

He turned on Treva and snatched her by the arm. At five eleven he appeared menacing, towering over her five-feet-four frame. “What was that all about? I told you to lay low.”

Treva refused to be intimidated. She wrenched her arm free from his grip and rubbed at the spot. “What’s your problem? You wanted me to get the job as his lab assistant, and I’m pretty sure I just accomplished the task.”

“That wasn’t the point. Do you know how many ways it could have gone wrong?”

“Well, it didn’t, so let’s get on with the job. I can use the extra bio-coin.” She knew just the right bit of knowledge to add to the equation to deem herself an asset, and she’d picked correctly with the genetics report. She hadn’t been ready to start her plan this early, but when the rare job opening in this section had come up, she jumped on it.

“Is that all this job means to you—monetary advancement?” Stemple stood toe-to-toe with her.

Treva screwed up her bottom lip. No, that wasn’t all the job meant to her, but she couldn’t tell him. There was no possibility of trusting Stemple with her real objective. “What else? Do you really expect me to give a hoot about those aliens they capture?”

Stemple furrowed his brow and glared. “They’re human beings just like we are. And they deserve better than your loathing.”

Treva stepped back. Maybe it was worth testing him. It would be helpful to have an ally. “Well, aren’t you just the champion of the downtrodden.”

Stemple frowned. “I have no interest in the captives other than scientific. But I’ve seen the notations about suspected illegal alien interactions in your full life records.”

Treva’s shoulders dropped. “Suspicions are not facts.” She needed a look at those records to see what might be in there. Embarrassing data wouldn’t help her long-term goal. “I didn’t know full life stats stayed in your records after university.”

“The records are forever.”

She mentally calculated what it would take for her to hack the system. “I thought parts of it were sealed.”

Stemple raised an eyebrow. “Are you worried about something?”

Her eyes darted up and to the right. She’d never been good at lying, but she needed to put on her best innocent face. She flashed a smile. “I guess not. You hired me.”

“That I did. And we’re going to get off to a better start once I lay out the ground rules.”

“Like not eating your lunch out of the cooling unit?” She figured light teasing might put him at ease faster than being standoffish.

“No, like your interaction with the Landers.”

Treva lowered her gaze, hoping he wouldn’t ban her from the necessary interaction. “Landers—as in plural. How many are left after the one that just died?”

Stemple’s cheeks reddened. He hesitated then recovered. “Several, but a Lander child is being brought in from Dominion Borough.”

“A child? How did they get a Lander child?” Treva’s heart rate ticked up. This couldn’t be happening. Not now.

“I don’t know. Everling got the data.” Stemple looked at his halo-tablet and pulled up several reports. “Why?”

“I’m just curious,” she stuttered.

He stared at her. “I just bet you are.”

“Listen, I’m not too fond of the way you seem to be treating me. Maybe it was a mistake for me to take this job.”

Stemple rubbed his chin. “I’m sorry. I was being rude. You just threw off my schedule by plunging in like that. I wanted to talk with you first about the ground rules for the job before we approached the doctor. The paramount rule is nothing gets outside of this lab. Nothing about our work, our conversations, or anything you observe.”

Treva smiled. Okay, back on track with work. “That’s a pretty basic rule of confidentiality for an experimental lab environment.”

Stemple shook his head. “I don’t think you understand the ramifications of this gag order. This means absolutely no one other than you, me, or the doctor knows exactly what we’re processing.”

Now it was Treva’s turn to raise an eyebrow. Test the water. “What if one of the Politicos calls me for questioning?”

Stemple’s look drilled holes in her. “Then you know nothing.”

“Well, I should probably tell you Charles Ganston was a friend of my father’s. He’s like an uncle to me.” She figured he’d find it in the records before she could alter them. And it would give them a small secret she could use to see if she could trust him.

Stemple perked up. “That’s why he let you lead him out of the lab. I thought it was a little strange he became docile so quickly.”

Treva grinned. This might just work.

Stemple clenched his teeth and pointed a finger. “If you want to keep your job, never mention him again, especially to Everling. They are childhood rivals.”

Treva opened her mouth but then closed it without a word.

“Now you’re getting the idea,” Stemple said. “Let’s see if we can come to terms on everything else. You’ll take over this job monitoring Landers that I normally oversee.”

He walked to the console and tapped the green button for the first pod. The plascine composite wall changed from opaque to translucent then slowly became transparent. This new material fascinated Treva. It had the strength of steel but the fluidity to allow unfettered views as though it were glass.

She glanced at the cell interior. A private water closet stood in the far left corner against the wall, displaying a virtual screen with a pastoral scene of mountains, a waterfall, and several deer frolicking among meadow flowers. The rest of the room consisted of a slab bed with a thin mattress, coverings that slid from the wall diagonal to the screen, and a small table and chair this side of the water closet.

At the table sat a subject. He never glanced up or made any movement to acknowledge that the wall had become clear. He sat perfectly straight in the chair with his head down. Long dark hair fell over his eyes, obscuring his face. She guessed by the length of his torso he probably stood about six feet tall.

Treva stared at the Lander. “Is the wall two-way? Does he know we’re here?”

“Yes. He has very distinctive abilities we have to control.” Stemple crossed his arms and backed up a step.

Treva averted her eyes from the dark-haired man and glanced at Stemple. “Is there something wrong?”

Stemple frowned and dropped his arms. “No. Why do you ask?”

Treva smiled. “Because your body language tells me differently. Have you ever had a run-in with him?”

Stemple jerked his head back. “No! Why would you think something like that?”

The man sitting at the table slowly turned his head in their direction and lifted his chin until he was staring eye to eye with Stemple. His hair fell back, exposing a handsome face with a chiseled jawline and olive complexion. He carried the standard forehead-and-temple marking of a Lander. His lips parted in an almost imperceivable smile.

Stemple stumbled back, shook himself, and regained his composure. “I’m late for a meeting.” He looked everywhere but at the cell.

Treva shrugged. “I have to finish gathering the samples for the test station.”

Stemple smacked the wall panel and stormed from the room.

Treva leaned back against the near wall and watched Stemple leave. What had gotten into him? There was fear in his eyes. She turned back to the man staring holes through her. It didn’t make her nervous, but it did make her curious. She’d been waiting for this. She picked up the control module and walked toward the wall while maintaining eye contact.

“Hello.”

He didn’t respond. Treva reached out to touch the clear surface of the cell, and a mellow vibration radiated through her fingers and into her wrist. She jerked her hand away and rubbed the tips of her fingers together. He continued to stare at her. She knew full well that plascine walls didn’t vibrate. Maybe she was imagining it. She reached out again.

Her fingertips rested gently against the surface, and warmth radiated outward from them. She tipped her head to the side. “Are you doing that?”

She didn’t pull back this time, but the warmth subsided as she stared at her hand. The change felt like a loss she couldn’t explain.

“What if I am?” the man asked in a baritone voice.

Treva opened her mouth to speak, but what was she going to say? Stemple had left without any explicit instructions. “I assumed the drugs were disabling your abilities, or at least that’s what I was told. Why are they drugging you?”

“Do you really care, or are you just making conversation?”

Treva bit down on her lip then released it. “I really care.”

The man cracked a smile, lowered his head, then looked up at her with a devilish grin. “Once, long ago, I slammed Stemple against a wall.”

“You’ve been physically violent?” Adrenaline flooded her body. She felt the urge to flee.

“No.”

Her legs trembled. “You don’t think throwing someone against a wall is violent?”

“I never touched him.”

Treva’s eyes widened. “Then how?”

“I thought it.”

Her brain became an instant jumble of thoughts all bombarding her at the same time. She laid her palm against the wall. “You did it with your mind?”

He smiled broadly. “Yes, and I’ve let them think they’re controlling me with the drugs.”

Treva looked down at the controller in her other hand. “What is your name?”

His head jerked toward her. He stared at her with smoky green eyes. “Glade Rishon.”

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. She wondered if he could hear it. “Are you planning on hurting me?”

“No, but why would you believe my answer?”

Treva tipped her head to the side. This was illogical, but other than excitement, her emotions were calm. She needed to start this operation somewhere. “I can’t tell you why right now, but I do trust you.” She fingered the controller and the clear door slid up out of the way. Treva slowly stepped inside the cell, conscious to stay by the opening. “If you still have abilities they can’t control, why are you letting them keep you in this place?”