“To the West Coast?” Kal’s enthusiasm faltered, and Rick beamed, nodding unapologetically as he downed the last of his drink. Exhaling in satisfaction, Rick set his empty glass aside, ice tinkling.
Max Saladan slumped, his hand shaking as he found his coffee. “We want the assurance that this new virus is safe as well. You will go in as my employee, assisting in the patent transfer of the T4 Angel tomato. And if you start chewing that ice, Rick, I swear I’ll spell you into a bat.”
“What about my work here?” Kal said as Rick sullenly pushed his glass of ice aside. Kal’s work wasn’t going well, but there had been progress.
“Ulbrine,” Max said, his thin voice taking on a trace of an Asian accent, “I did not stuff myself in a tin can for six hours and fly out here for a maybe. Make him do this. I thought the enclave could make him do this.”
Kal’s eyes narrowed. Across from him, Colonel Wolfe leaned back, his hands laced across his middle in expectation. Ulbrine shifted as if uncomfortable. “Ah,” the enclave member stammered. “Kal? We’ve gotten you a six-month guest pass at Global Genetics through Max. Saladan Industries and Farms acquired the patent to Dr. Cambri’s Angel tomato, and as his field manager, you’ll be assisting in the patent transfer. From there, Rick will get you access to Dr. Plank’s records on the tactical virus. The colonel will be on-site occasionally as the government’s contact facilitating the military acquisition. You will report your findings to both me and him.”
Six months! I can’t leave my research for six months, Kal thought as the small Were in his tidy uniform inclined his head, his expression still holding that wary expectation.
“There can be no question,” Ulbrine was saying. “No mistakes. The balance between the four major Inderland species has been maintained for over eight hundred years, and if the effects of this new virus are more detrimental than Trisk promises, there will be problems.”
Realization snapped through him, washing Kal with an icy breath despite the heat. The enclave could send anyone to double-check Trisk’s work. They were sending him so they could quietly mothball his current research with bacteria. They’d given up on it in the face of Trisk’s more promising, quickly evolving theory. Trisk’s results were attractively fast, but that’s where the danger lay. His theories were slower, yes, but safer. Why couldn’t they see that?
A feeling of alarmed urgency broke over him, but Kal kept his breathing even. His theory that bacteria could safely insert genetic code into mature cells would have as much chance of being developed now as a man had of walking on the moon.
Rick cleared his throat, drawing his attention. The living vampire beamed at him, his hand rising in a gesture of Well? as Max lit another cigarette, clearly not caring. Colonel Wolfe’s eyes narrowed in threat. And still, Kal couldn’t move, the heat of the day making it hard to breathe. If he left for six months, they’d close his project. He’d never find another lab willing to pick it back up. Trisk’s code-carrying virus would become a potential threat in their very children’s cells until something went wrong, and something always went wrong.
“Dr. Kalamack, a word?” Ulbrine said as he rose, chair scraping the worn wood.
I should have worked harder. Kal sat for three heartbeats as his failure trickled through him. With very little grace, he stood, pushing his chair back with a loud noise to follow Ulbrine to the railing, where the crashing waves might cloud their words. The wind was fresher, tugging at his short hair as the dampness wound its way past his shirt and coated him in a sticky, salty film.
“Trisk’s research is dangerous,” Kal said bitterly, not caring if the three men at the table now discussing the agony of jet lag could hear. “You expect me to leave my lab to become a field manager? For a witch? To help her?”
Ulbrine’s expression creased as he took Kal’s shoulder and turned him to the ocean. “This isn’t about Trisk, it’s about Dr. Plank’s tactical virus. We must be sure it will function as designed before other labs take it up as their template. Our numbers are too low to risk outside strife impacting us, and if it should go wrong, we won’t survive another species-specific war.”
They want to close my work down, he thought, seething. Trisk would laugh her ass off.
Ulbrine’s expression darkened, clearly thinking jealousy, not the loss of his own work, was making Kal reluctant, and he felt his face burn. When NASA had withdrawn their offer, he’d been forced to accept his second choice. It was still in Florida, but he felt like damaged goods. And it was Trisk’s fault. No wonder he hadn’t made any progress. Even his colleagues doubted him.
“I’m giving you this opportunity as a favor to your father,” Ulbrine said, and Kal’s focus cleared.