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McBrid plodded down the hallway as if he were heading to a funeral—perhaps, his own. It was time for his weekly meeting with Professor Conguise. He’d hated these meetings for years, but they’d gotten worse since he’d mutated Fersia. However, it was part of his job and he had no choice but to attend. It’d be over soon and then he’d have an entire week before he had to do it again. He knocked on the door.
“Enter,” said the professor.
Araldo, even the pompous tone of the Almighty’s voice grated on his nerves. He opened the door and walked to the chair in front of the desk, sitting without waiting for an invitation.
“Why haven’t you started the eradication of the Phasmatodea eggs?”
“I’m trying a new process.” Thankfully, there hadn’t been any other small Brush-Men in the original enclosure. It still didn’t explain why the one Charlie had saved was so tiny, but he didn’t have to tell Conguise that there were hundreds more Brush-Men roaming the cage.
“The process we had in place worked the last time.” Conguise’s steely blue eyes locked with his.
“You gave me this project because you want me to learn how to control these creatures or at least get them to listen.”
“I gave them to you because lately, you seem to have trouble creating specimens that survive.”
He clamped his mouth shut. Stating that he’d been given this task long before he became averse to torturing the lower classes would only get him in trouble. Conguise seldom let the truth sway his mind. “If that’s where you want my focus, I can eradicate them all and start fresh. Perhaps, they don’t obey because of a flaw in the mutation process.”
“Transformation process.” Conguise’s mouth puckered as if he’d tasted something vile. “You will not eradicate them. They are still valuable.”
“Only if they obey, as you’ve said many times.” He loved throwing the professor’s words back at him. It drove the older Almighty crazy and even though doing this was like poking a Tracker, knowing it could kill with one swipe of its large paw, he couldn’t resist.
“What new process are you attempting?”
“I’m slowly moving them into the other cage, giving myself time to work with the smaller ones without interference from the older ones. The younger Brush-Men should be more open to influence.”
“Hmm.” Conguise closed the manila folder. “Let me know how it goes but don’t delay too long. Those eggs need to be destroyed. We can’t be overrun by these creatures. They’re deadly, fertile and voracious.”
“Of course.” He waited until Conguise opened the next folder—the Aranea files. His biggest success and his secret shame. “Was there anything odd about the last poisoning?”
“You have Scottsmoor’s notes.”
“Yes, but I was wondering if perhaps he discussed something with you that he may have forgotten to add to his reports.” Or removed. They all modified pertinent details of their experiments when passing a project along. None of them wanted to be outperformed. If another scientist succeeded where they’d failed, it could mean death—a violent, horrible death.
“Everything should be in his report. If you don’t understand something, ask him.”
He understood perfectly.
“Now, how is the new male Aranea?”
“Good. He’s young and strong.” Sick and weak was more accurate. “I think he’ll survive.”
“Is he fertile? We need Aranea19 pregnant. We need viable offspring.”
“His sperm is potent.” Surprisingly, that was true. Perhaps, it was nature’s way of trying to pass along the genes before the male succumbed to leukemia.
“Good. Let’s hope they mate before she kills him.”
“Let’s hope she doesn’t kill him.” Fersia was lonely. He couldn’t undo what he’d done to her. The most he could offer was helping her find a mate.
Conguise laughed. “Always the dreamer.” He sobered. “The male is smaller than she is, right? We don’t want her dead, not now that she’s improving with the ball play.”
“The male host is small so his Aranea should be similar in size.” He’d convinced Fersia to play catch with him by telling her if she didn’t both he and Charlie would be reassigned. He’d shown the video to the professor to give Conguise hope that she was improving.
The truth was, she’d be the one killed if she didn’t show signs of obeying and he’d be forced to create a new female Aranea. He would’ve told her that, but he wasn’t sure death scared her.
“Good. Has she learned any new commands?” Conguise’s face was tense with excitement.
If only the other Almighty knew that he could communicate with her, but that was a secret he’d die to protect. That information would only spur on Conguise’s crazy experiments and that meant more would suffer.
“No, not yet.” He was an expert at giving hope where none existed.
Conguise’s long, thin fingers tapped on his desk, reminding McBrid of the Aranea’s claws as they moved across the tile. “You have tried rewarding her with food, correct?”
“Yes.” She didn’t want food. She wanted to be a House Servant again, not a monster.
“Okay. Keep me informed.” Conguise closed the folder.
Usually, McBrid rushed out the door, eager to get as far away from the professor as possible but today he hesitated.
“Yes.” Conguise’s thin patrician face watched him.
“I hear you’re bringing on two more scientists.” One he understood. The professor had never replaced Ableson, but two could mean someone was leaving and the only way out of Level Five was death.
“Yes. They’ll be mentoring with Scottsmoor and Crackderr.”
“Excellent.” He hadn’t been asked to mentor. That wasn’t good. He was senior after Crackderr.
“I plan on moving them from scientist to scientist in order to learn from each of you.” Conguise’s face showed no emotion. “Gruder will mentor with you after Scottsmoor.”
“I look forward to it.” He inhaled as he stood. With his Guard’s sense of smell, he could detect nervousness or fear. Both of those could signal lying but there was nothing but the faint odor of soap, Almighty, and cologne coming from the professor. It looked like he was safe, at least for another week.