Authors: Riley Barton
Luna spoke, her voice faltering as she fought to maintain control of her emotions.
“Now that you know, can you please take me back to New Denver?”
Mark shook his head and looked down at her sadly. “I’m sorry, Luna. I
can’t.
”
“Please, Mark! I’m begging you! Take me back!” she cried.
“Luna, you have to believe me. If I had any choice in the matter, I would help you. But I can’t!” He sighed and dropped his gaze to the floor. “My ship is
stuck
, Luna. She’s hung up on something. That’s what I was doing here before you showed up: trying to dig her out.”
Luna felt her heart sink. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that until I can dig the
Second Wind
out, we’re both stuck in the middle of nowhere.”
As the truth of Mark’s words sank in, it felt as if all her hope was draining away.
She was stuck—stranded with only a handful of days left before her disease consumed her. She sank to the floor.
“Is there any way we could make it back with one of the lifeboats?” She asked hopefully, determined not to give up completely until she had explored all of her options.
“I wish,” Mark replied, easing himself down to sit beside her, “but you took the last long-range boat I had. All of the boats I have left are short-ranged. You could maybe get about halfway before running out of gas. But you’d never make it to New Denver. Not even on a good day.”
Luna bit her lip. “What about settlements? If there’s a town or city nearby, then they’ll
have
to have a light therapy ward.”
“Well … there is one relatively close by,” Mark said hesitantly, “but it would still take us weeks to get there on foot. And if you only have a few days left, then there’s no way you could make it there in time. … ”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Luna sighed. “I was pretty bad off when I was trudging around out there yesterday, and I’m only going to get worse.”
“Do you have any more ideas?” Mark asked, watching her out of the corner of his eye.
Actually, she did. It was risky and almost as dangerous to her health as the Blister Wart disease itself. But it was the only option she had left.
Luna chewed at the corner of her bottom lip. “Do you remember back when you rescued me from the Vespasien gang?”
Mark raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. I remember. Why?”
“The armor from the suit I was wearing, do you still have it?”
“Yeah, actually. I figured it might come in handy.”
“I need it,” Luna said, rising quickly to her feet.
Mark hesitated for a moment then quickly pushed himself up and followed her toward the door. “Why? What do you need it for?”
Luna smiled, and turned back to face him. “I’m going to finish my research and find a cure for the Blister Wart disease. And that armor is going to help me do it.”
Chapter 32
Agent Tagawa set down the small pair of scissors he held and leaned back in the chair, eyeing his work with satisfaction. Beyond the small collection of bonsai trees spread out on the windowsill, the sprawling city of New Denver slept uneasily.
Keith sighed, his weary eyes staring vacantly at New Denver’s dimly lit skyline. Just a few weeks ago, he and his team had risked everything to protect Luna McKelly, and now that she was most likely dead, he felt that he and his colleagues had failed not only her—but the rest of the city as well.
He glanced down at his recently trimmed trees and pursed his lips. Bonsai usually helped him cope with the day-to-day stress of being an agent, but not today.
There had been hundreds of Swamper kidnappings and other unsolved disappearances throughout the past twenty years. But he had never known
any of
the victims personally. And, though he felt terrible for admitting it, none of them had been as important as Miss McKelly. Sure Mr. Edgard had claimed that Luna’s research on the Blister Wart cure would continue as planned. But Keith doubted anyone would be able to simply pick up where Luna had left off. Despite her small stature, she had left large shoes to fill. The production of a viable human cure for the Blister Wart disease was now delayed by months—maybe even years. Time that many Blister Wart patients wouldn’t have.
“Excuse me, sir,” Keith’s personal AI unit said, breaking the silence “I have an incoming call from Headquarters. Shall I patch it through?”
Keith straightened, and nodded. “Yeah. Go ahead, Mac.”
“Yes, sir,” the AI replied, activating the apartment’s built-in communication systems. There was a muffled click as the various receivers and speaker systems scattered throughout the room hummed to life, followed by Lieutenant Manning’s authoritative voice.
“Agent Tagawa?”
Keith cleared his throat. “Yes, sir, Lieutenant.”
“Good. I’ll try to make this quick.” Manning paused. “As you probably know by now, Edgard declared a state of war between the civilized world and the Swampers earlier this morning. As such, the first waves of Agency shock troops will be splashing down all across the swamp either tonight or some time tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, I was aware of this. My team and I have been put on standby alert, until further notice.”
“Well, there’s been a slight change of plans. Agent Perkins will be assuming command of your team for the time being.”
“Perkins? I’m sorry, sir. I ... I don’t understand.”
The lieutenant responded, “You’ve been reassigned. The two of us have been ordered to work the McKelly case. The Chief wants us to poke around and try to dig up anything we can.”
Keith’s mouth twitched and he smiled so slightly that had anyone been in the room to see it, they probably wouldn’t have noticed. “When does the Chief want us to start?”
“ASAP. I’ll meet you in the Agency training facility at 0900. I’ve set up a rendezvous with Rosa Hernandez. According to the reports, she was one of the last people to have contact with Miss McKelly before her disappearance. And since she’s a member of the Agency, I thought it would be best to debrief her first before moving on to the other subjects.”
“That sounds like a plan, sir.” Keith said, “I’ll be there at 0900.”
“Perfect. I’ll be waiting for you, Agent.”
Keith heard a quiet click and then silence as Manning hung up. He continued to sit for a few more minutes, and then he eased himself out of his padded swivel chair and made his way toward the apartment’s bathroom. Tomorrow would be the day to find his answers. Answers he hoped would prove useful to the Agency and the rest of Unitech in their search for the criminals responsible for the death of Miss McKelly, as well as countless others.
Chapter 33
Luna couldn’t believe how hard it was for her to breathe. It had only been one day, but already her congested chest felt as if it were on fire as she fought for every wheezing breath.
“Subject Luna, please stop this at once!” Edward said urgently, his voice sounding strained and choppy as it called out from her helmet’s battered comm systems. “I am detecting a significant increase in your heart rate and respiratory functions. Please, Subject Luna, you’re pushing yourself too hard!”
“I only have, like,
four
days left to live, Ed!” she gasped, leaning heavily against a rotten tree trunk while she fought to catch her breath.
“I do not believe pushing yourself to this extreme will prolong your life expectancy.”
She and Mark had spent the past seven hours scouring the swamp in search of the elusive microbes that held the secret to synthesizing an effective vaccine against the Blister Wart disease.
Funny,
she thought to herself between gasps,
not much has changed since the last time I was here.
She snorted and pushed herself away from the dead tree. “Hey, Mark. Have you found anything yet?”
“Nope … nothing,” came the garbled response. “What about you?”
Luna did a quick scan of her immediate surroundings, silently hoping to see a cloud of the yellow-highlighted protozoa dancing across her heads-up display.
“Nope,” she sighed, “there’s nothing over here either.”
“Do you think that maybe we’re too far outside this species’ range?”
The thought had crossed her mind more than once. But she had forced herself to stay positive.
“It is a possibility,” she said, taking a staggering step forward, “but we’re only a few dozen miles away from where Research Station 121 collected their samples. So I think the micro-fauna here should be the same.”
At least I
hope
it’s the same,
she mused, fighting down the urge to surrender to her feelings of despair.
“Well, not to sound pessimistic, but I doubt we’ll be able to make any more progress today,” Mark said through the improvised team comm he’d rigged between their armor. “I think we should call it a day. We can rest up and head out again tomorrow.”
“Yeah … that sounds like a plan,” Luna agreed, feeling the effects of the long day. “Let’s head back.”
“All right. You stay there—I’ll come to you.”
“Will do.”
She pulled her feet out of the mud and took a few more labored steps, and then she sat down on a nearby stump to wait.
Finally, Mark emerged from the fog and sat down beside her.
“Tired?” she asked as he slipped a small hand-held bio-scanner into one of the many bandoliers slung across his chest.
“Yeah” He nodded. “Even though I’ve been living out here my entire life, it’s still exhausting to try to walk anywhere. How about you? Are you doing okay?”
“Yeah … I’m a little tired. But I should be fine,” she lied, hoping that the choppiness of her suit’s damaged comm link would hide the sound of her wheezing.
“All right, we should probably get going,” Mark said, staggering back to his feet. “It’s getting late, and we don’t want to be out here after nightfall.”
She took one last breath then eased herself off the stump and followed Mark back into the shifting mists, longing for her inhaler.
An hour later they’d made their way back to where one of the
Second Wind’s
boats waited, tugging impatiently against its moorings.
Since they’d planned on spending the entire day in the swamp, Mark had brought along a heavy plastic tarp to cover the open boat while they were gone so it wouldn’t fill up with rain before they got back. It took a few minutes of tugging and splashing around in the muddy shallows before they managed to pull the wet tarp aside, fold it up, and stow it one of the cargo compartments built into the boat’s bow.
“Watch your step,” Mark cautioned as Luna swung herself into the boat, “I don’t want you to trip and knock yourself out.”
“Your concern is noted,” she replied—the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at her mouth as she seated herself on one of the vessel’s four bench-seats.
Mark made sure that Luna was safely aboard, untied the mooring line, and leaped lightly into the boat. The momentum from his boarding pushed the vessel away from shore and propelled it out into the deeper water, giving them a good head start while he fumbling with the finicky engine. Before long they were racing across the water toward the waiting ferry.
“Hey, Ed! Open up!” Mark called through the comm, bringing the boat around to the back of the ship, “It’s us!”
“Hello, Master Mark. Opening hanger door.”
Luna absently kicked her feet together beneath her bench trying to knock off some of the excess mud coating her boots. The
Second Wind’s
massive doors inched open on squealing, rusted hinges and bathed Mark and Luna in warm, welcoming light.
Once the doors had opened , an automated crane swung outward along a conveyer system bolted to the hanger’s thirty-foot high ceiling and slowly lowered two sets of cables down to within reach of the boat.
Mark beckoned to Luna who quickly stood up and helped him secure the heavy steel cables to four anchoring points welded to the sides of the boat. After double checking to make sure the vessel was securely attached, Mark gave Edward the signal, and the boat began to rise until it was dangling ten feet in the air.
Having no desire to relive her past experiences with falling, Luna eased herself down onto the bench and did her best not to move while the conveyer system pulled the swaying boat into the hanger.
“You okay?” Mark asked.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine? Why do you ask?”
“Well … you look a little pale.”
Yeah, well you’d look pale, too, if you’d fallen out of a Stratocruiser!
After what seemed an eternity, the crane stopped and lowered the boat down to one of the several crudely fashioned, cradle-like contraptions that served as dry docks for the fifteen or so mismatched boats scattered throughout the hanger.
Luna held her breath and waited a few seconds—just to make sure the boat had
really
stopped—then slowly got to her feet, and made her way to a set of rusted, iron steps leaning down and away from the dripping vessel.
Once she reached the ground, she reached up and was about to remove her helmet when a sudden blip on her heads-up display caught her eye. She turned and found herself staring in open-mouthed astonishment at a nearby supply locker. There, illuminated and enhanced by her helmet’s holographic display, was what she had been searching for all along: a living cloud of yellow-highlighted microbes.
“Mark! Look!” she squeaked with unrestrained excitement.
“What? What is it?”
“The protozoa!” she exclaimed, pulling a damaged sample kit out of her hip pocket. “It was here all the time, Mark! Right under our noses!”
Mark reached for his own bio-scanner and began to scrutinize its holographic screen.
“What in the world? How’d these things get on my ship?” he muttered under his breath.
“Well, what do you have in this locker?” Luna asked.
He shrugged. “Nothing. Just junk. Wait … ” He paused then snapped his fingers. “Luna, your kit! Remember? When I brought you here, some of the tubes in your sample kit were broken. I thought I might be able to get something for them later, so I stashed them in the locker!”
“That makes sense,” she replied with a nod. “This species seems to be really resilient.”
“So, basically we could have just uploaded the bio-scan program from your helmet into the computer and had Ed sweep the whole ship?”