Alien, p.6
Alien, page 6
Brigette stood in the doorway, smiling at him.
“Hello, Hassan. It’s good to see you again.”
Hassan repressed a shudder. He’d never been comfortable around synthetics, and one of the things he liked about working for Venture was how few of the things were used by the corporation. He was far more comfortable around robots. They looked like what they were—machines—and didn’t try to pretend to be anything else. He knew where he stood with a robot. With a synthetic? Not so much.
“Yeah,” he said.
If Brigette found his response odd, she gave no sign. She continued smiling as she stepped back and gestured for him to enter. Hassan did so, and didn’t see Dr. Gagnon.
“The doctor’s in his private office, going over your medical records,” Brigette said. It was creepy—like she could read his mind. “He’ll join us in a few moments. In the meantime, I need to give you a brief physical examination.”
Hassan didn’t like being alone with Brigette, but he told himself to stop acting like a child, and allowed the synthetic to lead him to an examination table on the far side of the lab. Neither her lab coat nor her pants were particularly skin-tight, yet they hugged her body snugly enough to give him a good sense of her shape. Despite himself, Hassan watched her hips sway as she walked ahead of him, and an uncomfortable thought struck him. He’d heard about sick people who enjoyed synthetics as sexual partners. Was he secretly one of those people, in denial about his true desires? Was he so conflicted about his feelings that he hid them behind a veneer of prejudice, when he really hated himself?
He shook his head, not wanting to examine those thoughts too closely, so he told himself he was being ridiculous and tried to thrust them from his mind. It wasn’t easy. Brigette was extremely attractive. More, she moved like a real woman. Hell, she even smelled like one.
Gesturing for him to climb onto the exam table, she quickly and efficiently went about her work. As he sat quietly she checked his blood pressure, temperature, pulse, and respiration, using a penlight to peer into his eyes, ears, and nostrils. She placed a tongue depressor into his mouth, made him say ah, and pointed the light down his throat. Drawing a blood sample, she then asked for a urine sample, and had him take a small plastic container into the en-suite bathroom.
When he returned, Brigette had him unzip the front of his coveralls and raise the T-shirt beneath. She affixed six sensor pads to his chest and abdomen, and one on his forehead. He was uncomfortably aware of her touch the entire time, and was relieved when she finished.
“You didn’t use sensor pads last time,” he said as he zipped up his coveralls. Brigette faced a computer screen and entered data into the terminal. She didn’t look away from the screen as she answered.
“Today’s test is extremely important, and Dr. Gagnon wants to make certain he gathers as much information as possible.” Something told him there was more behind Brigette’s words. She wasn’t lying, exactly—he had no idea if synthetics could lie—but he didn’t think she was being entirely honest with him, either.
“You know,” he said, “I’m not really clear on what this test is, exactly.”
For a second Brigette seemed to stiffen, but when she turned around she appeared relaxed, and the smile she gave Hassan seemed genuine.
“The doctor’s current research focuses on the human immune system’s response to a new biological contaminant. Today is the first step: exposure.”
That word—exposure—sent a chill down his spine. Was he going to get sick? And if so, how bad? Would he miss work?
“If for whatever reason you end up unable to work for any length of time,” she added, “the doctor will see to it that you continue to draw your full salary.”
That was a relief. Hassan didn’t mind being ill—so long as he wasn’t too ill—but he hated the idea of losing credits because of it. The whole reason he was here at the Lodge was to make money, not lose it.
“I’ve activated a voice recorder.” Brigette turned back to the terminal and entered a command. “Please state your name, and say whether or not you choose to continue with this test.” He knew the drill.
“Hassan Bagrov. I wish to continue with this test.”
“And do you agree not to hold the Venture Corporation liable for any potential negative outcome of this test?”
Good old Venture, always making sure to cover its ass.
“I do.”
Brigette nodded, satisfied, turned off the voice recorder, and continued typing more information into the terminal. When she was finished a door in one of the lab’s walls slid open, and Dr. Gagnon stepped out. As the doctor approached the table he held out his hand. Hassan looked at it suspiciously for a moment before shaking it.
“It’s good to see you, my friend,” Gagnon said. “Thanks so much for being willing to help us once more.”
During Hassan’s previous visits the doctor had come across as cold and detached, acting as if Hassan was little more than another piece of lab equipment. Just now the man seemed so enthused by Hassan’s presence that he could barely contain his excitement. It was Gagnon’s attitude, more than anything else he’d experienced since entering the lab, that made Hassan consider getting off the examination table, leaving, and never coming back. Something was wrong here, and while he didn’t know what it was, his instincts were sounding an alarm.
When the doctor released his hand, the smile grew even wider.
“Did Brigette mention that we’re going to pay you twice the usual fee? Management is being generous with the funding for my current research, and it seems only fair that we, in turn, be generous with you.”
Since when had Venture’s management ever been generous? The idea was ludicrous, but the thought of earning double caused Hassan to overlook any doubts he might have. The more he was paid, the sooner he could afford to take his vacation. Maybe he’d go to the Bahamas, or the Yucatan Peninsula. It didn’t really matter, as long as it was someplace warm and sunny.
Hassan smiled. “I’m ready when you are, Doc.”
“Excellent! If you’ll follow me.”
Gagnon led him to a section of wall. He pressed a button on a keypad, and a section slid upward to reveal a window, looking into a small room. Fluorescent lights came on, illuminating the chamber and what was contained within. Hassan’s enthusiasm dimmed considerably when he saw the egg-like object resting on the floor.
“What the hell is that?”
When Brigette had said “biological contaminant,” he’d imagined some kind of germ or virus. Maybe even some kind of plant spore. This thing looked like something out of a nightmare. If it was an egg—and it damn sure looked like one—he didn’t want to see the kind of chicken it produced.
“I’m afraid that information is classified,” Gagnon said. “All that’s required of you is to enter the chamber and stand next to the object for several minutes. During this time we’ll monitor your vital signs to see what, if any, reaction your body has to being in the object’s presence. Who knows? You might not have any reaction at all.”
Hassan might’ve allowed himself to believe Gagnon’s words, but Brigette gave the scientist a disapproving look, as if to say, “Shame on you.” Suddenly, it didn’t matter how much Hassan was going to be paid. He didn’t want to get any closer to that weird-looking egg.
“Look, I appreciate the opportunity, Doc, but on second thought, I’d rather not continue with this test. I hope you find someone else to help you out, but I—”
Gagnon’s smile died. He reached into a pocket of his lab coat and withdrew a syringe.
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Hassan,” the man said, and then in a single swift motion he jammed the needle into the side of Hassan’s neck.
Hassan pushed Gagnon away, dislodging the syringe in the process, but it was too late. A sudden dizziness came over him, and his vision blurred. The last thing he heard was Gagnon giving Brigette an order.
“Catch the idiot before he falls. I don’t want him injuring himself before we get started.”
Hassan felt Brigette’s surprisingly strong hands on him, and after that, he knew only darkness.
* * *
Hassan opened his eyes.
It took a moment for his vision to clear, but when it did he realized he was lying on a floor, on his side, looking directly at the disgusting egg-thing. The object was less than a meter away from his face, and with a start of horror Hassan realized that he’d been placed inside the testing chamber while unconscious.
It was sealed.
As he sat up his head swam with vertigo, and he had to fight to keep from falling over again. He turned to the observation window. Gagnon and Brigette were watching him from the other side. He rose to his feet, his legs weak, but managed to remain standing.
He glared at Gagnon.
“You can’t do this to me!”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized how stupid they were. He was an anonymous cog in Venture’s vast corporate machine. The company could do anything it wanted. After all, he’d given his permission.
Gagnon ignored Hassan’s protest. The scientist spoke, his voice coming through a small speaker next to the window.
“The chamber is sealed and airtight. There is no way out until I choose to release you. The sooner you accept this and cooperate, the sooner it will be over.”
Gagnon’s voice once more held the cold, clinical tone with which Hassan was familiar, but the man’s eyes still gleamed with excitement. Was there a little madness there, as well? Hassan thought so. He looked to Brigette then. She stood next to Gagnon, but when Hassan caught her gaze, she looked away.
She knew this was going to happen, Hassan thought. And she’s ashamed by her part in it. Not so ashamed, though, to have done anything to stop Gagnon. Hassan had no idea if a synthetic could disobey the orders of its human master. Before today, the notion that a synthetic might possess free will would’ve made him more than a little uneasy. Now he wished with every fiber of his being that Brigette had disobeyed Gagnon, and warned him of the scientist’s plan to drug him.
It was funny. Before entering the lab, the thought of synthetics being able to make independent choices would’ve creeped him out. Now he fervently wished they possessed that capability.
Hassan wanted to shout at Gagnon, to let out a stream of curses and pound his fists against the window. Maybe it was the lingering effect of the drug, or maybe he simply realized that Gagnon was right, and he had no way of escaping. Whatever the reason, the anger quickly drained out of him, and he turned away from the window to face the egg.
Up close it was even more disgusting than it had looked through the door. Its surface was slick and moist-looking, as if it was covered with some kind of mucus. And the smell! The egg gave off a thick, rank odor, a combination of reptile stink and the harsh tang of caustic chemicals. The strange thing was that the smell had a certain allure, like the odor of gasoline or the earthy scent of a dog in need of a bath. Those weren’t pleasant smells, nothing on the order of fresh-cut flowers or baking bread, but they were nonetheless compelling in their own way, and the egg’s scent was no different in this regard.
Without realizing it he took a step toward the thing and, to his surprise, it reacted. As if his physical proximity had triggered some kind of signal, the egg began to quiver, almost as if Hassan’s presence excited it. The animal-chemical smell grew stronger, and again without realizing it, he took another step toward the egg.
Its outer surface appeared solid, but four sections peeled away from the top and curled downward, revealing an opening. Now it looked more like a flower, extending its petals. Whatever the thing was, it had to be alien. No way something like this had come from Earth. He realized then that Gagnon had no idea what the hell the thing was either, and the real reason he’d put Hassan in the chamber with it was to determine what the object would do.
The egg—or whatever—stopped quivering when its petals had peeled all the way back. It sat motionless, as if waiting for Hassan to make the next move—and the hell of it was, he did. He took yet another step toward the thing. Maybe it was out of curiosity, or maybe the odor the object gave off was some sort of stimulant, like a powerful pheromone. He was less than a foot from the egg, close enough to be able to lean forward and see whatever lay inside. A voice in the back of his mind—one that belonged to the most primitive part of him, the part that had helped his species survive and thrive over tens of thousands of years—screamed that he should draw back before it was too late.
But of course, it already was.
There was a flash of movement as something sprang forth from the inner recesses of the egg. Hassan registered spider-like legs, a long, segmented tail, and a fleshy slit of a mouth, and then the creature smacked into his face. Its legs fastened around his head and gripped tight, and the tail coiled around his throat like a constrictor.
He staggered backward, as much from shock as from the creature’s impact, and collided with the wall. He slid down onto his ass as the creature’s tail tightened further, cutting off his air. Trying to scream and failing, he reached up and attempted to pull the coils away from his neck, but they were too strong. They continued to tighten, and his throat burned as if on fire. He opened his mouth in a desperate attempt to draw in oxygen, and he felt something long and slimy extend from the creature and thrust its way down his throat. He gagged as the organ penetrated him, and once more clawed at the coils, frantic to get this monstrous thing off him, but all he managed to do was tear off several of his fingernails.
He barely registered the pain.
Then he was surrendering to unconsciousness. He toppled over and lay sideways on the floor. He had time for a final thought before oblivion claimed him.
I… should have… gone with… poker.
* * *
Brigette watched as the multilegged creature leaped from the egg and attacked Hassan. At first she thought the thing was feeding on the poor man, and when he collapsed to the floor, she feared he had died.
She stepped to her computer terminal. A quick check of the data relayed by the sensor patches on Hassan’s body showed that he wasn’t dead. In fact, according to the data, Hassan was resting comfortably in a deep, peaceful sleep. Even with the creature entirely covering his face—including his nose and mouth—the man appeared to be breathing normally, as if the creature was somehow breathing for him.
She rejoined the doctor at the observation window and told him what the data indicated. He nodded slowly, without looking at her. She wasn’t sure he’d heard, but didn’t repeat the information. She knew from experience how angry Gagnon got when he thought anyone was patronizing him, especially her.
“Don’t act as if you consider yourself my better. You’re nothing more than lab equipment with opposable thumbs.”
“Interesting,” Gagnon said finally. “It appears the egg and this new creature are separate lifeforms, connected but at the same time operating independently.”
The egg’s petals closed slowly.
“What’s it doing to him, Doctor?”
Brigette tried to keep the concern from her voice, but she failed. She’d been created to be a pleasure synth, and to make her the most effective sexual partner she could be her core programming included a strong sense of empathy—as well as the ability to express it. She might have been repurposed as a lab assistant, but the empathy remained. Sometimes—like now—she wished her entire programming had been changed, or that she’d been deactivated. It disturbed her to watch the things Gagnon did to his “willing” test subjects, even more so knowing that there was nothing she could do to help them.
Worse, she played a central role in torturing them. This sort of programming conflict was enough to cause a synthetic to experience cognitive impairment, even a full-blown mental failure cascade. Brigette couldn’t stop caring for the humans that walked into Gagnon’s lab, but at the same time she needed to show no personal feelings toward them if she hoped to be an effective assistant to the doctor.
Up to now she’d managed, but after seeing what had happened to Hassan Bagrov she didn’t know how much longer she could continue.
Gagnon appeared unaware of her internal conflict. This didn’t surprise her. To him, she was nothing more than a computer that happened to be shaped like a human. He didn’t expect her to have thoughts of her own, let alone feelings.
“Remarkable.” The doctor leaned closer to the window until his nose almost touched the surface. The word was little more than expelled breath.
“What will happen next?” Brigette asked. What she really wanted to know was if Hassan would survive whatever was happening to him, but she didn’t say this aloud. Gagnon would only mock her for pretending to experience human emotions. Then he would get angry with her for allowing herself to be distracted by concern for a man who, to Gagnon, was of no more importance than a lab rat.
“We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?” He smiled without taking his gaze off the man, and the creature hugging his face. “The sensor pads you attached to his body should tell us the full story, in due time.”
Brigette hadn’t been programmed to believe in a higher power, but if she had been, she’d have been praying for Hassan to make it out of this alive. Since there was nothing she could do, however, she stood next to Gagnon and continued watching Hassan’s unconscious form while the parasitic creature went about its awful work.
6
Zula sat next to the driver of the transport as the vehicle juddered across the rocky terrain of Jericho 3. The trainees sat in the seats behind her, some quiet, some talking, some razzing each other. Everyone—including the driver—wore EVA suits, helmets on and sealed, life-support systems activated.
The transport cab was enclosed, with rows of uncomfortable seats, a large rectangular windshield in front and smaller circular windows on the sides. The vehicle had its own internal life support, but it wasn’t on. It was more efficient—and cheaper—for the driver and passengers to use their suits’ life support. The transport didn’t have an airlock, so when the door was opened oxygen wouldn’t rush out and be wasted.
