It had been nearly twenty four hours since the Tsuchi had devoured Johnson. Could their metabolisms be that fast? Would they need to eat again already? There had certainly been enough waste material, long since swept away by the automated cleaning system.
To test the theory, Brice tapped out a few keys on his laptop and watched as a fresh piece of raw beef rose into the containment unit. The three Tsuchi, all laying on their backs, motionless legs clutched inward, remained still. The scent of raw meat failed to lure them from sleep. Could they really be dead? He didn’t think they could have starved. The Tsuchi on the Darwin had lasted years at sea, most likely in some kind of hibernation state. Was that what they were doing now?
Only one way to find out.
“I need you to inspect one for me,” Brice said.
“M-me? I’m hardly qualified to—”
“You’re here,” Brice said. He knew he could call in help, that there were other people just minutes away, who were more qualified. But time was of the essence, and he hadn’t known this man’s name. That meant, should the worst occur, the man was expendable. “That makes you qualified. You do like your job, don’t you?”
The big man actually appeared to be debating his answer, but eventually acquiesced with a sigh. “Just...tell me what to do.”
“Very good.” Brice set his fingers to work on the keyboard. Inside the Tsuchi unit, the floor came to life. Two small circles opened in the floor. The robotic limbs slipped into the space and twisted toward the nearest Tsuchi. The three stubby digits at the ends of the arms opened and gently gripped one of the creature’s rigid limbs. It didn’t flinch.
If the Tsuchi were dead, it would be a significant loss, but not catastrophic. They could harvest the creatures’ DNA and start anew. There was also a chance that they could collect and implant the Tsuchis’ eggs and artificially implant them into hosts. If that worked, they would have new, adult specimens in minutes. How the Tsuchi grew so quickly was one of the secrets he needed to unlock. If only the island had been more closely monitored, they wouldn’t be in this predicament, but reverse engineering was always easier than trial and error. And while Brice was a brilliant man, the mind behind the Tsuchi had been...insane, at best. Probably worse.
The Tsuchi body was pulled toward a clear plastic tray, collected and pulled down through the floor. “Over here,” Brice said, snapping his fingers, while walking to a biological safety cabinet on the far side of the massive incubator space. They arrived at the same time as the Tsuchi, the tray rising up behind the protective glass wall where two thick gloves hung limp. The Tsuchi was still rigid, seemingly clutched by death.
Biting his nails, Brice stood beside the unit and waggled his free hand at it. “Go ahead.”
After a moment’s apprehension, Wood put his hands into the glass-mounted gloves, reaching inside the container without exposing himself to what was inside. “That stinger looks pretty nasty. Should I—”
Brice waved his fears away. “The gloves are made from nanocrystalline cellulose, the same material our bullet-proof, puncture-proof and shock-proof armor is made from. Your hands are perfectly protected. Now, if you wouldn’t mind...pull off a leg.”
“W-what? Why?”
“If it’s dead, what does it matter?”
“What if it’s alive?” Wood asked.
Brice shrugged. “Then we’ll know it’s not dead.”
Lips pursed, brow damp with sweat, Wood turned to the task at hand, reaching out with the thick gloves. At first, he touched the body gingerly, ready to pull back. But after a few moments of prodding, he became more comfortable, lifting the Tsuchi up and turning it around. “It’s lighter than I thought it would be.”
“Most of the weight comes from the shell,” Brice said, “but on the inside, even that is mostly porous, like a gel-filled honey comb.”
“You’ve dissected one before?”
“Heavens, no. I have merely studied reports from those who have.”
Wood stopped still and turned to Brice. “But you would, right? If given the chance.”
“Yes, yes,” Brice lied. “Of course. Now please, concentrate. All this talking will give me a migraine.”
Wood tried to hide the shake of his head and the roll of his eyes, but he failed. Brice decided he’d fire the man regardless of his participation. But not until they were done. Not until he knew what step to take next.
The Tsuchi, laying on its shelled back, spun around under Wood’s guidance. He stopped it, took hold of a limb, and pulled. The leg didn’t move.
“Pretend it’s a wishbone,” Brice said. “You look like you’ve had a go at your fair share of turkeys.”
With a sigh, Wood leaned forward, face near the glass, and put his weight into the leg, holding the body still with one hand and pulling with the other. The limb slowly relented. And then, as though connected, all eight limbs snapped open. Wood let go of the leg, but still held the body in place. “What was that?”
“Reflex,” Brice guessed. “The last of its neurons firing in response to your pull.”