Page 26 of Resolution
“I was brought up with five other people,” Sandy said, rubbing her arms with trembling hands. “They were all taken away to the labs. I feel so guilty being here when they’re suffering.”
“It wasn’t your choice,” Melly said immediately. “We have to do the best we can although I’ll tell you right now I won’t do anything that furthers these horrible aliens’ agenda. Unlike Dr. Mercattor, I’m not going to be a collaborator. I’ll die first.”
“Do you—do you think taking care of the children is collaborating?” Sandy asked in a shocked voice.
“No, I think it’s the humane thing to do, up to a point, which for me would be if I’m ordered to perform any kind of medical procedure or test in connection with the unspeakable research this place is doing.” Melly knew with unshakeable clarity where her boundaries lay. “Are you the only caregiver?”
“Yes. Apparently the woman who was here before me killed herself. The children told me—some of them found her. The three oldest have been here since before the cities collapsed from the outbreak and they help me with the others. I try to keep the group amused and active. Meals are brought three times a day by the guards, unpleasant survival ration-like stuff. We’re outside in this grassy area after breakfast till lunch. After lunch the children are required to go to the holding cell and nap or sit quietly. After dinner we go to the big room and I’ve been having them play games. The Khagrish gave me nothing to work with. Well, except for packs and packs of strange playing cards.” Sandy was clearly amused by the odd gift. “We’ve made up a few games to play with them at least. A couple of the kids managed to bring a book or two with them and Keenan brought the ball.”
“I know some games and a lot of good bedtime stories,” Melly said. “I have—had a younger brother.” She didn’t want anyone here to know about Mike. He might have inherited the same immunity and other factors she possessed from their parents and she didn’t want the Khagrish to go hunting him next. Any Watchers he’d encountered to date had been while he was with her and she assumed the Watchers had been confused by the fact there were two people with the markers they were looking for.
“Do you want to meet them now?” Sandy asked.
“By all means.” Melly took the hand of an adorable toddler who had been cuddling up to the caregiver and walked with her toward the spot where the other children were gathering on the field. She could see and hear already that the kids were going to need basic medical care and determined to fight as hard a battle as she needed to with Dr. Mercattor to get the Khagrish to give her the necessary supplies. Keeping the children healthy while she waited for Jeff and the others to initiate a rescue attempt fell within her boundaries of what she would do. Allowing a child to suffer needlessly with an earache or a chest cough wouldn’t stand with her. Her opinion of the other doctor fell even lower than it already had been.
If she had to be here, Melly was determined to do what she could to help the innocent children caught up in this tragedy.
Chapter Nine
Jeff had been relentless in the push to finally reach their ranchland and the spot where the supplies had been delivered and dropped. He knew his team and the civilians were exhausted, as he was, but he had the strong feeling every minute counted in this race to find Melly and rescue her. Finally Cody reported his drones had spotted their homestead and the various shipping crates and modules were waiting as expected. A few hours later the APC’s were pulling up to the spot and Jeff was the first one out.
He took a deep breath of the clean highland air and slowly pivoted in a circle, studying the horizon. “We picked a beautiful spot,” he said.
“We sure did,” Cody replied, clapping him on the shoulder.
“This is prime ranchland,” Tamsyn agreed as she exited the APC and came to stand within the circle of Cody’s arm. “What in the seven hells is in all those containers?”
There must have been twenty or so huge containers scattered in a loose circle.
“The housing and barn modules,” Jeff said, pointing them out. “A flyer, partially disassembled. Gear. A lot of useful items I’d hoped not to ever need but now I’m grateful I pushed to get them.”
“Orders, sir?” Cody asked as the others gathered around them.
“We’ll make camp. You’re sure there are no infected in the vicinity?”
“Positive.”
“All the way out here, where it’s so isolated?” Devora asked.
“We ran into one on the remote acreage of my ranch,” Tamsyn told her. “Infected can be literally anywhere, anytime.”
“Wel for now anyway it’s all clear,” Cody assured them. “I’ll keep my drones scanning of course.”
“Everyone should be armed at all times,” Jeff said. “Except Jenny of course.” He forced himself to smile and the group chuckled a bit. “After we’ve established camp, I’m going to initiate the house module to self build. By tomorrow noon sleeping under the stars will no longer be a necessity and we can move in. I’ll give us all a break tonight. Rest up because tomorrow we’re going to be unpacking, assembling the flyer and getting ready to go find the enemy wherever they might be and get my wife back.”
The house module was a top of the line colonial model, six bedrooms, four bathrooms, big kitchen, an office and other amenities. Jeff had insisted on the premium options for everything when his superiors gave them this mission. It was the least the Sectors could do for his men, after sending them out here to this remote planet for an indefinite assignment undercover. He’d argued the extravagance was believable as their cover involved being five veterans pooling their resources to start a ranch. He’d wanted each man to have his own bedroom, plus one for guests and plenty of room in the house for whatever the future might bring. He’d been thinking in terms of hosting meetings of whatever disgruntled clandestine organization they eventually were recruited into—if the basic mission had succeeded—but now it was going to be a blessing with three married couples and a child already, plus the three remaining bachelors.
The module, as well as the barn and the garage, had been delivered to precise co-ordinates, based on the geography of the site. The other cargo containers were more haphazardly parked here and there within a tight radius. Jeff grabbed a nutrition drink and walked over to the huge module, which at this stage presented as a blank sided box, with a small control panel behind a locked cover. While the others busied themselves getting out the tents and making camp, he unlocked the panel, which was coded to his DNA and read the instructions the module’s AI projected into the air as a scrolling holo for him. He’d trained on it before they ever left their base but the operation was simple, intended for any colonist to operate.
With a deep breath he clicked the big INITIATE button and waited. For a moment there was silence but then a soft chiming sound told him he’d been successful. Deep inside the container there was rumbling.
“Please step back to the minimum safe distance,” said the AI. “The module will begin expansion and deployment in three minutes.” It then commenced a countdown verbally and in flickering blue letters in the air.
Jeff obliged, retreating as ordered. Most of the instructions actually involved the safety of the humans while deploying the house, with an emphasis on not trying to enter it too soon. It was all modular, including the limited furnishings and if left alone would be functional by tomorrow. He waited until the first part of the container slid aside, lengthening as the foundation began to build itself and then he walked to the APC’s. “Make sure Jenny doesn’t get close to the house,” he told Devora. “Or you either,” he said to Mike.
“I can’t believe it’s going to be a house,” Devora said.
“My ancestors had a similar, more primitive structure at the heart of the house at the Double Comets,” Tamsyn told her. “Technology’s come a long way since the Wendovers were First Landing settlers though. It’s going to be a mansion,” she said to the captain. “Our house grew over the centuries but yours is starting out big.”
