<Yes.> Ryann could see where this was going. <And I’m sure many of those projects are ones they would like to keep from prying eyes.>
<Exactly.> Her voice changed, becoming softer, like silk. Ryann recognised it as the voice of a manipulator, and listened for the scalpel beneath the silk. <Tell me, when you feel those creatures, are they more human or more animal?>
Ryann answered slowly, drawing the truth from deep inside, pushing emotions away. <They do not have the life-flow of either human or animal, but their traces have similarities to both.>
<Don’t be so evasive. I’m trying to help. What part feels human?>
<I’m not sure what you want me to say, Arela. They show a superior intelligence. Is that what you’re getting at?>
Ryann heard the chief sigh, and when she next spoke the words were clear and slow. <Do you feel evidence of anything like a lattice when you sense the creatures?>
Yes. But Ryann couldn’t admit that. She couldn’t accept what that meant. So she remained silent.
<Of course you do,> Arela continued. <You’re one of the best trackers I’ve ever known, Ryann.>
Ryann split her focus, and reached out, as much as she could, beyond the walls of the hold out. She used the relay, and she searched for the creatures. Of course, they surrounded her like a fog, but she pulled in her range, focusing tighter, narrowing down on an individual. And there, incredibly faintly, she felt movement, like a pulse. Yet it was slow and sluggish, and that was not the driving force here. No, there was something else, a subcutaneous flow through the whole body.
Yes, she could feel evidence of a lattice. Decayed and twisted, but still a lattice.
<Those things are human?> She looked to the blanket covering Cathal, and shuddered.
<Were. I don’t know the exact classification now.>
<But…how?>
<I know none of this, Ryann. There is no way I can back up my suspicions. If I tried, there are those who would silence me.> She paused, and Ryann imagined black-clothed operatives, or political manoeuvring. <But I need to keep my people safe. I would be failing in my job if I did not equip them with the knowledge I felt they required.>
<So what do I need to hear?>
<To be honest, I’m not sure. But you’re smart, Ryann. I’ll tell you what I know, but you’ll have to figure out how to use it. Okay?>
<Okay.> And, of course, it wouldn’t be everything Arela knew. Or even suspected.
When Arela next spoke, her voice flowed easily, and Ryann pictured her leaning back in a chair. <You know about the body-snatchers, Ryann? Back in the early days of medical science? There were no labs, no virtual simulations. All knowledge came from studying bodies, so body-snatchers were hired to obtain cadavers. Officially, they dug up freshly-buried corpses. But unofficially, many people lost their lives to further our understanding of biology.>
<I’m familiar with the stories.> Ryann could also see where Arela was going with this.
<Of course you are. And I’m sure you can appreciate the justifications.>
<The sacrifice of the few for the benefit of the many. It’s standard medical philosophy.>
<Yes. But it doesn’t only apply to medicine. It’s a business concept too—start-up costs might be high, but the rewards will repay them many times over. You take an initial hit in order to reap the benefits later.> Arela paused, and when she spoke again her tone became harsh. <Tell me, Ryann—what is the company’s greatest achievement to date?>
That was obvious, but Ryann was already leaping ahead.
<The company could only do so much lattice research virtually. Eventually, they had to use people.> Arela said nothing, waiting for Ryann to continue. <And not all that research would be successful.>
<Trial and error. Bedrock of science. You understand?>
Ryann’s stomach churned. <So what happened to the…test subjects when the research failed?>
<Success and failure are fluid terms. Failure is a part of the learning process. Everything is ongoing.>
<Just like lattice development.> Of course the company were still pushing for improvements. <But if people died…>
<People die all the time.> Arela paused. <But death isn’t the issue here.>
<No.> Ryann looked at the blanket covering Cathal, like a shroud. <Maybe death isn’t the worst that could happen.>
That would explain why those creatures—those failed tests—had an echo of a lattice. But it still left too many questions. The elongated limbs, the stretched jaws and the fangs and claws—these were physical changes. The lattice might help a body’s natural processes, but it couldn’t alter physiology to such an extent. The idea was…it was beyond preposterous. It was the stuff of bad horror stories, or old folk tales.
The stink from Cathal’s wound hit the back of her throat, but it no longer made her feel so nauseous. She wanted to believe that was a sign of his infection receding, but she knew the reality. She was becoming used to the stench.
It was possible to become accustomed to death. Ryann’s medical training had taught her that. Death was a part of life, a part of a cycle. And sometimes, death was a release. She’d held the hands of patients, both old and young, as they’d slipped away, and she’d felt their passing. Even without the enhancements the company would give her later, she was attuned to others, and she knew that, sometimes, letting go could be a comfort.
But what if it was not possible to let go? What if someone were trapped in the endless agony of their condition?
She thought of the black emotions that rolled off those creatures, and she wondered how much of that was from the pain they felt inside.
<So what can we do?> Ryann sussed. <Does any of this help us?>
<Understanding can always help. You’ve told me that enough times, Ryann. Learn, understand, then act.>
<But right now?>
<I don’t know. Your hold-out’s secure. And the whole thing with the sol light—I’d never heard any rumours about that. You’re already outsmarting them. I know
