Dominant Species Volume Three -- Acquired Traits Read Online Free PDF Page A

It
all depended on the looks she got when she opened up the office. She was their
leader and part of her job was to instill confidence. Some days she couldn’t do
it. Today was one of those. Her dark thoughts and the heat conspired against
her and broke her pleasant facade, cracked it open, and left the angst beneath
it plainly visible. Maybe she could get it back in place before they detected
how very wrong things were.
    Mike and
Peter were screwing around outside, just like always. She could see them poking
and jostling at each other, showing their true ages. Mike’s limp made him look
especially vulnerable in the match, but he held his own. Some of the newer kids
were there, too, watching the mock fray from container tops like bored imps.
    She saw
her chance and took it. Maybe she could defuse any thoughts of contracts and
useless, profitless effort by throwing them off guard. Perhaps she wouldn’t
have to deal with it for a while, not this morning, anyway.
    “Hey!”
she yelled. “What did I tell you about that kind of shit on the dock! Go out in
the field and screw around if you feel like screwing around!”
    “Sorry,”
they both said almost in unison.
    “That’s
good. Be sorry,” she said opening up the office.
    She
called the whole crew in and jumped right into the day’s jobs without ceremony.
If she acted pissed and rushed enough, she figured, they wouldn’t be able to
ask her any questions about anything. She wouldn’t have to stumble over answers
she didn’t have. When she was finished, she shooed them out like puppies. “Get
to work,” she said. “Go on. Get to work.”
    It had
been months now since they first heard of the Collapse on Earth. It had taken
awhile to get their minds back on level ground after the depths of fear, grief
and horror they’d occupied over the news of it. Peter had been the hardest hit;
he’d been extra close to his family.
    They said
there were survivors, but not many. Peter was sure his family members had
perished. He couldn’t be truly sure like one could be sure of a thing one could
see, but he had made up his mind, and it was his reality. It caused him a
gnawing grief. She felt he was trying to face both his intense personal losses
and the unimaginable, massive losses; working it out, perhaps just a little at
a time.
    Mike had
no family that Joan knew of, except a brother he rarely mentioned. His father
had died some time ago. Joan considered herself the closest thing to family
that Mike had. She wasn’t supposed to have a favorite, but Mike was hers. He
was a good worker, regular, and just a good kid. She would adopt him if she
could, but that wasn’t necessary really.   They were close enough, and she could keep a motherly eye on him without
actually holding the official title.
    She was
pouring her second cup of coffee when Mike hobbled full speed through the door.
The look on his face told her immediately something was very wrong.
    “Joan!
You gotta help Peter!”
    “What?”
she asked, yelling.
    “Come on!
He’s got something on him.”
    She
groaned inwardly. It was always something on this planet—something hideous to
bite, stab or cling to you or infect you. She raced out with her guts in a
knot. There was no telling what it was.
    “Where is
he?” she yelled at Mike’s back.
    “Over
under the dock!”
    The crew
was huddled over a section of dock a few meters from the edge, bending down or
on their hands and knees to look through the grate. One of the newer kids,
Bobby Fellows, had a long piece of aluminum conduit and was jabbing down
through the grate at something beneath it. From beneath the dock came a
high-pitched, modulating whistle that grated on her nerves.   A few of the workers had their hands over their
ears to shut out the piercing sound.
    “Die!”
Bobby yelled. “Get off him!”
    “What is
it?” Joan demanded, getting down on her hands and knees to look.
    “He
dropped the key to the lift and went under to get it,” one of the