Day 14
Science Wing
Laboratory Room 12
United Space Systems Vessel California
17:41 hours
Out of formality, rather than necessity, Harold knocks on the door to Teresa’s private lab. Teresa waves him inside and he enters. Before shutting the door, Harold glances briefly at his other colleagues, who are laboring over their various pet projects at the main lab’s workstations. Teresa’s face wears a warm smile, but Harold can sense the weariness there as well. She looks exhausted.
“Have a seat, Harold,” Teresa says and goes back to typing on her tablet computer.
Harold drops down into the chair and offers Teresa a smile of his own.
“When’s the last time you got any sleep?” Harold inquires, concern in his voice.
Teresa doesn’t raise her head, only her eyes. She offers him a coy smirk and crooks one eyebrow.
“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” she says in a wry voice. “What about you? Sleeping much?”
“I catch a few winks here and there,” Harold says and leans over the desk. “But I’m not the one in charge of a massively important scientific breakthrough. You are. You need to get more rest. Mistakes can happen when we’re not at our best. You need to be careful. From what I’ve heard about these bugs…From the previous attempts…They’re nothing to play around with. I don’t want anything happening to you.”
Teresa’s mouth becomes a firm line and Harold realizes that he may have said too much. He tries to backpedal, but it is too late.
“I just mean that…You’re an integral part of this team,” Harold continues. “Your insight and your expertise is valuable to this project, Dr. Boyd. Your knowledge and ability to see things others have overlooked is the only reason we’ve gotten this far. I don’t want to see anything get in the way of the goals we’ve set. You need to take better care of yourself.”
Teresa is quiet for a moment. When she finally speaks again, her voice is calm and level. She places a hand over Harold’s and his heart begins to race.
“I’m deeply touched by your concern, Harold,” Teresa says. “But, you needn’t worry. I’m a workaholic. Always have been. Hasn’t slowed me down yet. In fact, I think I’m the better for it. I see angles to a problem, and solutions, that others don’t see…Because I take the time to look for them. I don’t always get it right. But I will work hard until I do. That’s who I am. I can’t change that now. It wouldn’t be me.”
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Harold nods without much enthusiasm and places both hands on the armrests of the chair—preparing to stand. Teresa’s voice halts him.
“You’ll be happy to know…” Teresa begins. “We only lost one specimen. Subject thirteen was dead inside its tank when I came in this morning. I did spy an oothecae in the corner of thirteen’s tank. So there’s that. Maybe, the next generation will be better off genetically. Here’s hoping. That brings us to eighteen live specimens—fourteen adults and four juveniles. And six new oothecaes. So far. We’re making great progress.”
Harold nods in agreement, but his heart clenches at the idea of so many live specimens. The Judases seem to be breeding much faster, and the specimens are definitely experiencing longer life spans. No longer requiring artificial insemination, several of the females appeared to have been born pregnant. Another specimen had proven to be a male, and very fertile. The male Judas bug, when introduced to two adult females, had inseminated them both within four hours. The resulting offspring had been nearly double the size of their predecessors. However, only one specimen of that generation had survived. Harold is grateful that the bugs’ large size has limited the number of offspring emerging from the oothecaes. The average leans toward two offspring per egg sac, with the maximum being four. The sacs containing more than two usually result in duds—the bugs inside literally starving from lack of nutrients.
The team has been steadily increasing the dosage of growth hormones administered to each generation of the Judas roach. The largest adult roach is now the size of a well-fed pit-bull. Harold doubts the wisdom of continuing to breed such a formidable insect. Maybe that is why the company wished for the experiment to be held in space? If anything should go wrong, would people back on Earth ever learn the truth of what happened here?
“Harold? What are you thinking?” Teresa says. She leans over the table. There is genuine concern in her voice.
“I’m worried…” Harold begins, “That we may be biting off more than we can chew. Don’t you think we should stop? I mean, put a pause on the growth hormones? At least, until we can be sure how large the subsequent generations will get? We keep injecting these things…Who knows how far this will go? I think we should step back and let nature take over for a little while. Maybe balance things out. Survival of the fittest style.”
Teresa releases a deep sigh and runs a hand through her black hair.
“Believe me, Harold,” Teresa says. “I’ve thought about that. But Dayshadow says we only have a small window before other companies and corporations are crawling up our butt to develop the same technology. Unfortunately for humanity, war is a thriving business. Peace doesn’t create weapons contracts. And without weapons contracts…The governments of the world can’t retain power. So here we are. We’re in the middle of a war, Harold. A weapons war between every powerful faction throughout the human sphere…And possibly beyond. If we don’t finish this project…Someone else will. I’ll sleep better at night knowing it was our project. That we did it first. Well…After Dr. Tyler of course. We did it better. I trust myself. And I trust my team.”
Harold shrugs and offers Teresa a wistful smile.
“Well…If you’re sure,” he says in a quiet voice. Rising from his chair, he shoots Teresa a stern look.
“Think about what I said, okay?” Harold whispers. He draws his mouth into a firm line and shoves both hands into the back pockets of his work jumpsuit.
“Sure, Harold,” Teresa replies.
Harold leaves Lab Room Twelve and heads to the workstation where Bess is busily charting their progress with the most recent batch of juvenile specimens. He looks over at the door to Lab Twelve; only to find Teresa standing there—arms crossed over her chest. Grabbing a set of beakers from the counter, Harold moves out of Teresa’s line of sight. He doesn’t trust himself enough not to betray what he is feeling at the moment.