Botanicaust (7 page)

The Blattvolk exchanged sharp words, and there was no mistaking the sneer on the man
’
s face. He stalked down the exit hallway, and Tula bent over Awnia
’
s slumped body. After a few moments, she sighed and returned to Levi
’
s cell.

“
Draw.
”
It was the same word she had used before with his notebook, only now she held a flat, rectangular box through the bars.

Rising to his feet, he approached and accepted the box. A small plastic stick rested in an indentation at the top. Unlike the drawing sheet she
’
d given him before, this machine was like a notebook. How he longed for something to draw with. This thing seemed a perversion of his
longing,
the sheets wiped so effortlessly clean.

“
Whas ear name?
”

Why did she care what his name was? Would talking to her speed his descent into Hell, or slow it down? He had no desire to offer his captors anything. He kept staring at the notebook.

The Blattvolk who called herself Tula reached between the bars and removed the pencil from the box. A series of squares appeared on the screen, and she touched the tip of the pencil to the first one.

Levi nearly dropped the device.

The familiar visage of Sarah
’
s face had appeared, each pencil stroke indelibly burned into his brain from the day he had created the drawing. She appeared to be staring off the screen toward the Blattvolk woman, a minute smile playing at the corner of her lips.

“
Sarah.
”
He whispered before he thought.

“
Sarah.
”
The Blattvolk repeated. Again she touched the pencil to the screen and another of Levi
’
s drawings appeared. This time, the chubby face of Josef, his fist curled against one cheek as he slept.

“
No.
”
He thrust the notebook at the woman. Each breath seemed to require his complete attention. He stumbled onto the cot, wrapped his hands around the back of his neck and lowered his head between his knees.

God was a cruel deity to torture him so.

Vitus returned the tranquilizer to the compartment near the prison door. That woman
’
s screaming had disturbed him for the last four hours. He
’
d had enough of Tula
’
s little pet project. Ninety nine percent of the time adults were not viable converts, and why she insisted on wasting precious resources on these two was beyond him.

Well, not really. She was a convert herself. She obviously had a soft spot for these pitiful excuses for human beings. And she
’
d pulled every trick in the book to keep these two alive after determining they were not a family unit. When he sent her the euthanization form, she dredged up some old policy stating all prisoners were granted ten days to prove worthiness for conversion.

Absolute waste of time.

However, her parting words a few moments ago hung over his head.
“
I
’
ll take this to the Board, Vitus. It
’
s unethical.
”

The Board was all about ethics. Like these animals deserved any ethics. Conversion was a privilege, not a right. If they converted every cannibal out there, humanity would end up no better than when the Botanicaust had occurred in the first place. Ungoverned greed had caused the planet
’
s downfall, and cannibals were nothing if not greedy. More food. More time. More space.

No, the Conversion Department
’
s job was to screen potential converts and make sure only the most useful entered Haldanian society. Converts had to earn back the cost of conversion. The Board needed to recognize that. Tula kept letting marginal personalities pass conversion requirements.

He pulled up her statistics on his computer screen.
Seventeen percent reversion rate.
Three percent required euthanization after conversion. Her numbers were barely within tolerances. One more failure and she
’
d be due for a reprimand.

Maybe he could help that along.

“
B
ut they
’
re children! You have to give me more time!
”
Tula blocked the door to Vitus
’
s office. He
’
d just sent her the euthanization orders for Rhomy and Nika.

Vitus sat at his desk illuminated by a circle of light from the fiber-optic daylight emitter in the ceiling. His crystal jewelry winked flashes of color as he checked off items on his gamma pad. He didn
’
t bother to look up.
“
You
’
ve been spending all your energy on the new captives. We can
’
t keep feeding all these prisoners.
”

Guilt rose over Tula in a wave.
“
Rhomy is ready for conversion. She showed me a drawing of herself as a convert the other day.
”
Opening her gamma pad, she started filling in conversion forms for the girl.

“
If you say so.
”
Vitus rose.
“
I have a Board meeting now, Sertularia. If you
’
ll excuse me.
”

Tula frowned. Vitus hadn
’
t used her given name since he
’
d first taken the position as the Conversion Department Supervisor and learned she was a convert.
“
You
’
ll approve it? You never give in to a conversion so easily.
”

“
Just get them off my roster.
”

A moment of hesitation might mean the end for the two children.
“
I
’
ll get both girls into gene therapy this afternoon.
”
She would have to give them a little more attention during their Integration sessions, but Albert would help her.

“
Make sure you get me the forms.
”
His words seemed like an afterthought as he pushed past her and out the door. She wondered what the Board meeting was about to have him so distracted.

As long as the girls converted, she didn
’
t care. She wasn
’
t quite sure they trusted her enough to lie still for the gene therapy, yet. Conversion would be so much easier if sedatives didn
’
t interfere with the cellular uptake of chloroplasts. Then they wouldn
’
t have to feed the prisoners so much, and maybe Vitus would get off her back.

But that was only a dream. She sighed and pulled up her bank balance on her gamma pad. The only way to get through to these girls would be their stomachs. She
’
d better take a trip to the candy maker. But first to get the forms files before Vitus changed his mind.

As she filled out the telomerase acquisition forms, the dispatcher in Burn buzzed her
com
. An emergency on the Reaches required a genetic psychiatrist immediately. She sighed and pressed her tired eyes with finger and thumb.
“
Can
’
t you get Patris out there?
”

“
He says he
’
s in the middle of a tricky Integration session. Someone needs to get out there fast. The Team Leader is threatening to put Bats down if things get any worse.
”

Bats was
one of Tula
’
s first adolescent converts six years ago. He would be eighteen, now. If the Team Leader was threatening extermination, things must be bad.
“
Is this Bats
’
first Burn run?
”

“
He
’
s been at it a month. But this is his first Encounter. I
’
ll let them know you
’
re on your way.
”

Tula hurried to the skimmer yard, leaving the shadow of the Liebert building behind. The solid, concrete structure housed the offices of the Board and rose above the underground labs of the Conversion Department like a fortress. The other office buildings along the three-block walk to the skimmer yard were single-story, extruded nuvoplast,
designed
to allow sunlight in at every angle. Clear roofs housed a photovoltaic bacterial layer between two nuvoplast sheets, filtering out ultraviolet light and converting it to power the city. One-way, reflective privacy screens bounced sunlight back onto the paved street.

Nearby, an open end in the fence around the city swarmed with construction crews erecting a new residential expansion. Too low to keep out cannibals, the fence served to prevent tumbleweeds from entering and seeding the city with toxic plant material. The five-mile buffer of the Burn, plus the daily patrols, kept the cannibals in the Reaches at bay.

The full spectrum daylight tickled Tula
’
s skin. She spent so much time in the underground lab or under glass in the Gardens, any UV exposure made her skin itch immediately.

Rubbing the pink scar on her arm, she thought about Bats. Even long-time converts sometimes saw something that reminded them of their past, and they regressed into pre-conversion mentality. Reversion was the technical term. Some attacked fellow Haldanians, some collapsed into tears or catatonic stupors, and others tried to escape into the desert. If she couldn
’
t talk Bats through this, he
’
d have to be put down, and she didn
’
t want that. But they couldn
’
t have converts relapsing to cannibalism, either.

At the yard, she turned a wary eye on the sand skimmer before she signed for it.
“
Are you sure this thing will get me there and back?
”
she asked the attendant as he handed her an ignition fob. The usually clear nuvoplast body of the skimmer was milky white, a sign the photovoltaic bacteria sandwiched between the layers was not functioning.

“
There
’
s still enough juice in the battery for a day run. The mechanic will replace the fluid after you get back.
”

Raising her brows in doubt, Tula climbed inside and started the vehicle, listening intently to the nearly silent electromagnetic engine. She did not have time to be stuck on the Burn. If she didn
’
t get the girls into gene therapy today, Vitus would put the euthanization paperwork through himself.

The skimmer felt unresponsive as she turned onto the street heading out of town, and she was about to turn around, worried the battery wouldn
’
t last, when she realized the last driver had left the tires in sand mode. She flicked the switch, but the skimmer
’
s stance remained wide and flat. Great.
No street tires and no recharge.
Not even the joy of full sunlight on her skin, since the milky nuvoplast diluted the intensity.