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GARR CALLED THE MEETING to order. There was a shuffling of chairs around the table in response. It felt strange without the entire team present. The mess hall seemed larger than normal.
Aubrey glanced around the room as she stirred her coffee. Six months ago, I was living outside the City, unaware any of this existed. And now, this feels normal.
The Colonel sat at one end of the table, Doc facing him at the opposite side. Sheila was in her favorite spot, perched on the counter against the wall. Aubrey pulled out a chair next to Garr and sat down.
Don, Amos and Jane were long overdue, and their absence had everyone on edge. The tension inside the room was palpable.
Never thought it would bother me if Snake Lady was missing. Aubrey sipped her coffee, hiding a smile. A pang of guilt followed swiftly on the heels of that thought. The Hoarders are the real enemy. And the Givers. Jane’s abrasive, but at least we’re on the same side.
Garr’s voice interrupted her wandering thoughts, drawing her back to the present.
“Let’s get the obvious out of the way.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Don, Jane and Amos are late. That’s not surprising: I sent them to a Hub next to the Enclave, and that requires extra caution. They’ll take any steps necessary to avoid trouble, and whatever intel they bring will be worth it. Now, put it out of your minds.”
“Easier said than done, Garr.” Doc sounded tired, but she nodded. “You’re right, they know what they’re doing. Worrying about it won’t bring them back any sooner.”
Garr clasped his hands in front of him. “I agree. So, let’s move on. Doc, let’s start with you. Give us an update on the status of our resident Tracker—I mean, Tracy. Has anything she’s said made sense? Any intel which might be useful against Trackers or Hoarders?”
Doc frowned and removed her glasses, setting them on the table in front of her. “Well, for the physical part, I’m amazed at how her injuries are healing. When she first arrived, I didn’t expect much.”
Doc shifted in her chair. “Tracy’s physical enhancements apparently include chemical additives to her blood. I can only begin to guess at their purpose, but it seems accelerated self-repair is part of the package.”
She paused for a moment, rubbing her eyes. “The damage done by the electrical prod makes her enhancements function erratically. Sometimes they work, but in fits and starts. She’s not as strong as she used to be, and by that, I mean she’s no longer capable of snapping us in two.”
Garr leaned back in his chair, looking relieved. “That’s good news, anyway. The less of a risk she poses to this Hub, the better.”
Doctor Simon nodded. “And for the past couple of days, she’s started eating regular food again, and keeping it down.”
Sheila sat straighter on the counter. “Really? She used to gag whenever I tried feeding her, and then she’d puke everything back up. What’s changed?”
Doc shrugged, replacing her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “It’s part of the ‘fits and starts’ I mentioned. Her self-repair still works—to a degree. The Givers designed Trackers to function without food, but that enhancement’s breaking down. She’s lucky her human digestive system is kicking back in, even if imperfectly.”
Garr listened intently, jotting notes on a small notepad in front of him.
Aubrey’s pulse quickened as she watched. Looks like we’ll be making another trip to the drop-box. But this time we’ll be the ones sending mail.
“What about intel?” Garr asked, punctuating a note with a sharp stab of his pencil. “I know her speech is impaired, but has she said anything potentially useful?”
“Tracy has no problem understanding us.” Aubrey inserted herself into the conversation for the first time. “I saw the way she was watching me, just this morning. She understands what we’re saying, and it looked to me like she’s thinking hard, too. Except . . .”
She motioned to Doctor Simon.
Doc understood her gesture and stepped in. “Tracy’s mind, what’s left of the human part, has sustained quite a shock—no pun intended. The prod shorted out the mechanical implants in her brain, which explains why she can’t hear the Givers. That’s the good news.”
She sighed, spreading her hands in resignation. “As far as her chances of overcoming the aphasia, well, I can’t promise anything. Except to note Tracy wants to communicate. But at this point, it’s extremely difficult for her.”
Garr tapped his pencil on the table. “But in your medical opinion, it’s still an improvement.”
He pursed his lips at Doc’s nod. “Remember Tracy’s first night in the Hub? She panicked when she realized we weren’t the Givers. If she’s trying to communicate with us now, I think that’s a good sign.”
Sheila eased herself off the counter and sat at the table. “Yes and no, Garr. She’s putting a lot of effort into speaking, but I don’t get the sense she’s looking for answers. She’s accepted we aren’t the aliens she calls Givers, and she’s not fighting Doc over blood tests any more. But that doesn’t mean she has any intention of providing us with intel.”
“She’s listening to us,” Aubrey interrupted, although no one at the table seemed to mind. “There’s been several times when I’ve seen her frown, or she turns away if she catches me looking at her. I think Tracy’s evaluating everything we say.”
“She’s re-learning how to speak,” Doc replied. “It’s only natural that she’d be listening closely. That’s how infants . . .”
She frowned, bolting forward in her chair. “That’s not what you’re getting at, is it?”
Aubrey took a deep breath, giving voice to her nagging doubt. “What if Tracy’s gathering intel—on us?”