Chapter 18

“I’m not sure how much training you have in security, but by the looks of you—” Roger Dunn stated as his eyes shifted from Molly’s head to her toes “—I’d say you’ll do just fine. Besides, it’s pretty quiet around here.”

Molly’s eyebrow rose. Quiet, huh? Her sister lost her child and left this planet sterile. You call that quiet? Not to mention that one other little thing, what was it, oh yeah! Pirating!

Roger had disproportionately short legs compared to his long torso, which made him seem short, although he stood nose-to-nose with Molly. His face was impeccably shaven and his eyebrows appeared to have been waxed and combed. His hair parted sharply on the far left side of his head and neatly followed the contour of his scalp, just past his right ear, and then swooped back to gently touch his collar. If Molly didn’t know better, she’d swear he wore a toupee. But no one wore those things anymore. Modern medicine had overcome baldness. Perhaps things were different so far from Earth.

“I’ll be fine,” she responded.

“Okay, well, first you will need security clearance—”

Molly opened her mouth but closed it again.

“And, in order to get that, you need to view these orientation streams. So, if you’ll have a seat—” He gestured toward a room full of chairs. It looked like the briefing room back on Earth. “We’ll get you started.”

He lifted a remote iComm device, pointed it at Molly’s face, and pushed some buttons. A green light blinked to her left peripheral. She sat down and activated the demanding light.

A red light flashed in her right peripheral. A message. As Roger left the room she accessed it.

Reminder: Do not let Roger transmit clearance, it will over-write current clearance. Tell him the orientation program transmitted it at the conclusion. –G She smiled. Save message.

Immediately, the red light flashed again. Of course. These messages must be piggybacked with Gordon’s. Hmm. Another thing to talk to him about.

“Open Message.”

Use extreme discretion when choosing allies.—AF

“Save message.”

Including you, AF. Molly activated the security orientation stream as the clock crawled by like an arthritic snail.

“Okay,” Roger stepped back into the room. “You ready to get your clearance and go on the real tour?”

“Well, I believe I already have the clearance.”

“What?” Roger lifted his remote iComm device and pointed it toward Molly’s ear. “Hmm.”

“The-the orientation stream said something about it being transmitted at the end of the file.” Molly put it out there.

Roger pressed his lips together in a frown and nodded. “Wish IT’d let us know when they modify these things.”

Molly blew out a breath as casually as possible. It worked.

“Well, then, let’s go meet your fellow security staff and see what you will be securing.” Roger smiled. A confused glint remained in his eyes, but he didn’t say any more about the clearance transfer. Molly fell in step behind him as they left the briefing room.

Roger led her through the offices. “Here at SHQ, that’s Security Headquarters, you’ll find we are a friendly bunch.”

Molly rolled her eyes as she followed him through the partitioned maze. She met her fellow officers, the dispatcher, an Omicron female named Lana, and the Head of Security, “Sarge,” he insisted on being called. Sarge had been on the first pilgrimage with Mr. Abraham. He appeared to be Molly’s dad’s age. But who knew?

Roger pointed out the break room—Coffee!

Afterward, they crossed the compound and entered a laboratory, or at least an outer glassed walkway. Four rows of tables stood in the middle of the room, covered in glass beakers and crates of test tubes. Six desks faced the three walls. A glass door opened into the lab, and another glass door exited on the opposite side into this same walkway. The entire laboratory could be visually scanned from here. Offices jutted from the glass passageway across from the lab. Beyond this appeared to be the entry to the infirmary. Molly strained to peek through the doors.

“This is—” Roger tapped her arm with the back of his hand. “Molly!” He drew her attention back to him. “This is Dr. Timothy Stork.”

“I’m sorry.” Molly suppressed the heat rising to her face. “Dr. Stork. Yes. It’s nice to meet you. Wait. Dr. Stork? Seriously?” Her eyes darted from the doctor to Roger. He was nothing like she had imagined. A non-assuming sort of man, one would never mistake him for a healer or a scientist. With the exception of his mottled stained teeth, he looked more like an older version of a seasoned waiter, or a hotel concierge.

“Yeah, I get that a lot.” Dr. Stork sighed as his passive eyes remained on hers. She sensed disdain.

“Geez, I’m sorry.” The heat took control of her face. He had no idea she was not reacting to the irony of his name being the fertility specialist and having the name Stork. She had a whole different startling awareness. One her sister had conjured by her tale of escape. Would Molly ever learn to remain neutral in her reactions?

“No problem, really.” Stork flippantly dismissed her perceived reaction. “This is where we process and maintain our fertility assistance.” He gestured toward the lab. “We collect donated ovum from the pilgrims in the infirmary. We marry them to the designated father’s cells and, voilà, we produce fetuses. We sustain the fetuses after the division of eight to sixteen cells through cryopreservation.

“It’s very exciting, what we’ve developed here, really.” Dr. Stork beamed. “The human DNA is removed, and the native female’s DNA is inserted, therefore the resultant child is genetically correct for the couple. Studies are being conducted as we gather more data, but so far, there have not been any difficulties.”

His eyes darted from Roger to Molly. “Oh, but that’s not to say we anticipate any problems. We are scientists, and we have a pathological need to document data.” He chuckled.

“And how do you catch the fetus at that cell division?” Molly bent to look through the glass wall at the vials lining the large table.