Chapter 9
Carlton generally wasn’t terribly concerned with details, but that didn’t mean he didn’t notice them.
Although he wanted to be kept abreast of all scientific developments made in the Foundation labs, he preferred concise explanations that could present the big picture without the needless clutter of every single aspect being described. Not that he had difficulty understanding the technical babble that his lab teams tended to spout, but knowing all the details of each experiment was unnecessary, and frankly, annoying. He wasn’t interested in the how, he wanted to know what the results were.
That didn’t mean he was unaware of the effect the little things could have on the larger operation. For instance, Dora Skirth on her own didn’t amount to much. She was a capable asset, but not an irreplaceable one. The issue was she seemed to have a stricter morality, one that pronounced that the Foundation’s work strayed too far outside the boundaries of what was ‘acceptable.’
The good doctor was an intelligent woman. She knew the consequences should her morality interfere with Drake’s goals.
Unfortunately, it seemed she was willing to accept those consequences.
Drake scanned the report one of his men had sent in. Enclosed were several photos of Dr. Skirth entering and exiting the police station.
“Well now. Don’t you remember the policy on initiating contact with the authorities, Skirth?” he murmured, flipping through the photos.
She did, of course. He knew she did. He would never let any of his more...involved employees forget.
Picking up his phone, he dialed a number that he’d memorized rather than keep in his contacts.
A quiet voice answered on the other end of the line. “Mr. Drake?”
“Dr. Skirth has been careless. Disciplinary action is required.”
He hung up knowing there wouldn’t be an answer. None would be necessary. It would be taken care of.
It was rather a shame. Skirth’s parents seemed to be such nice people.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Wednesday 4:28 a.m.
Anne: Progress?
S: Almost there. Can’t scan until done.
Anne: How are you holding up?
S: I’m okay.
S: Sort of.
S: Drake knows he’s lost his only leverage over me. Have to stay alert
Anne: We’ll make him pay. I promise.
Thursday 3:47 a.m.
S: We might have a problem.
Anne: You get made?
S: Maybe. Every night for the last two weeks, there’s been this guy there after hours
Anne: Drake’s guy?
S: Not sure. He’s a new hire
S: Drake already has people to keep eyes out for him
S: But he knows that I know who his spies are
S: If he suspects me, he might’ve asked the new guy to watch me instead
Anne: You get his name?
S: His nametag said Ben Reilly
Anne: I’ll look him up. Might be able to get him off your back somehow.
Friday 5:13 a.m.
S: Anything on Reilly?
Anne: Not yet. Progress?
S: Finished. Started scan but didn’t get far.
Anne: Anyplace I should check out?
S: Only significant power source in the area was the Foundation’s.
S: And there’s no secret cult cave in the basement here, I’ve checked.
Anne: Do not joke about this.
S: What makes you think I would joke about this?
Anne: Sorry. I know you’re taking this seriously.
Anne: It sounded a bit like a joke she might make.
S: Well, I actually did check. Foundation has plenty of underground rooms, but nothing resembling the caverns.
Anne: Can you get pictures of the rooms?
S: Yes, why?
Anne: Got an idea, but it’ll take a while. Keep going, I’ll see what I can find on Reilly.
Saturday 3:59 a.m.
S: Nothing on the scan so far.
Anne: Nothing on Reilly either. Can you get me a picture of him?
S: Ok.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Peter tensed as he heard the elevator door opening. Facing the one of the several glass walls that cut the lab into several smaller rooms, he checked the reflection as footsteps clicked on the tile floor behind him.
It was her again.
For the last couple weeks, she’d stayed after hours just as he had, shooting nervous glances in his direction whenever they’d passed each other in the hallway. She never lingered, and her face was constantly set in the ‘deer-in-the-headlights’ expression.
She was too nervous to be a spy. If Drake had caught wind of what he was doing, Peter doubted he would’ve sent one jumpy scientist to scout out his actions. If anything, she appeared to have her own secret agenda.
“Excuse me.”
He’d have noticed her approaching even without seeing her reflection in the glass. Her hand was shaking as it tapped his shoulder.
Dora struggled to keep her voice from trembling. “I…um, have we met before?”
Reilly smiled at her. Behind his thick-rimmed glasses, his brown eyes were warm and soothing, very unlike the hard-edged glares of the various goons Drake normally hired to ‘supervise’ matters.
“Not officially, I think.” He held out his hand. “Ben Reilly.”
She shook his hand carefully. His grip was firm, and she had the vivid impression that he was much stronger than his lean frame would indicate. “Dora Skirth.”
“Nice to officially meet you, Dr. Skirth.”
She glanced down at her nametag briefly, fiddling with her hands. “So…this might seem a bit odd, but could I take a photo of you?”
He squinted at her, his expression mildly bemused, but not suspicious. “Amateur photographer?”
“Something like that,” she agreed, relieved that her explanation had been provided for her.
“Okay. Thanks for asking permission first. Hey, do you want me to pose?”
He turned his back to her and looked over his shoulder, hands on his hips. “How’s this?”
She laughed, pulling out her phone to take the picture. “Perfect.”
He laughed too, turning back around so that he was no longer posing like a coquettish ingenue. “If you want to take a more dignified photo, you can do that too.”
Dora shook her head lightly, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. “It’s fine. Thanks for indulging me.”
“No problem. I’m not a bad photographer, if I do say so myself- maybe we could compare portfolios sometime.”
“Sure.”
They stood there, facing each other. Peter coughed into his fist.
“So, is there anything else you needed to do down here, or…?”
Dora flinched. “Oh. Right, yeah, I still have to…science.”
Peter nodded. “Yep. Science.”
“I’m going to walk down the hallway now.”
“You do that.”
Skirth spun on her heel and sped-walked away, uncomfortably aware of the brown-eyed gaze following her.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Monday 12:47 a.m.
S: Here’s the photo.
Anne: Good work. I’ll run him through the system.
Anne: Any progress on the scan?
S: There’s a couple energy hot spots, but nothing out of place. Unless there’s a secret cavern under Sam’s Electronics, I don’t think there’s anyplace you need to check.
Anne: Keep going.
Anne stared at her last message, the first pangs of regret snipping at her.
Sorry. You don’t need me to tell you to hurry, Skirth.
I’m just scared for her.
How much time do you think she has left? she typed instead.
It’s been nearly three weeks. Even assuming she has a fresh water source, how long until she starves?
That’s assuming her wounds aren’t too severe. If she has internal bleeding-
Anne shook her head and deleted her unsent text.
Focus.
I’ll find her.
She didn’t allow herself to dwell on whether Edie would still be alive or not when she did.
Tuesday 1:48 a.m.
Anne: Ran the pic through the system. Turns out, Reilly is actually some guy named Peter Parker.
S: He’s working under a pseudonym?
Anne: Looks like it.
S: Why would he need to work under a false name?
Anne: Not sure. He’s a reporter, maybe he goes undercover to investigate his scoops?
S: Think he’ll be a problem?
Anne: Don’t know. Doesn’t look like it, but keep an eye on him just in case.
Anne: Do you want me to come to the funeral?
S: No. You didn’t know them, and a police officer in my vicinity seemingly without any preexisting connection to me or my family will raise too many red flags for Drake.
S: I appreciate the sentiment, though. Thank you.
Anne: You said they’d want you to do the right thing.
Anne: They’d be proud.
S: They would.
S: Can I ask you a favor?
Anne: Ok.
S: Promise me that if this goes sideways
S: You’ll make sure Drake gets what he deserves anyway.
Anne: I’m a police officer.
Anne: Why are you asking me for this?
S: Because my parents wouldn’t want me to become a murderer because of someone like Drake.
Anne: And you think asking someone to become a murderer for you is any better?
S: I’m guessing that means this isn’t a favor you’re willing to grant.
Anne: That’s a crime, not a favor.
S: So is what he did to my parents.
S: And I won’t ever be able to prove that he did it.
S: If this goes wrong, he could get away with all of this.
Anne: Then let’s make sure this doesn’t go wrong.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Proof.
Peter pulled the test tube out of his jacket pocket, rolling it between his fingers and thumb as he savored the word.
Proof.
He’d finally gotten his hands on- something. He still wasn’t entirely sure what, exactly, but it was definitely a substance of extraterrestrial origin. Even through the glass, he could scent the hint of things long forgotten, reminders of galaxies far beyond the one he resided in now.
He wondered vaguely if the sample had been acquired from the same craft he’d arrived in. It wasn’t impossible- there had been several other lifeforms in the same scouting party. He hadn’t been the only Arachnakine, but the other species had definitely outnumbered his own.
“It’ll be perfectly safe,” the instructor had assured them. “We’ll scout an area free of the planet’s sapient lifeforms. We’ll observe the non-sapient fauna and flora. You and your scouting partner will collaborate on primary and secondary reports. Any further questions?”
“Oscorp is one of the leading scientific pioneers of our time. Here you can observe one of their many acquisitions, an unusual species of spider whose genus appears to be heretofore undiscovered.”
Let me out.
Peter squirmed as he stared at the giant arachnid in the glass enclosure. Ordinarily he didn’t mind bugs- he’d even asked Aunt May if he could have a pet tarantula at one point, though naturally she’d told him no- but the spider in the case was unnerving. Not because of its size, though it was unnaturally huge, but because of its eyes. They were too expressive, too intelligent. They looked…afraid.
He’s staring at me.
Does he know?
“If you are separated from the group, stay put. If you see any of the indigenous sapient life, avoid them. Some of you are similar enough in appearance to local fauna or flora that you may utilize your similarities as camouflage. However, do not attempt imitation of the sapient. Above all, do not attempt to communicate with the sapient. Currently their response to extraterrestrial contact has been…inconsistent.”
Peter stumbled as the ground beneath him shook. He pitched forward, slamming into the glass enclosure where the spider with too-smart eyes peered out. There was a loud crack as his skull collided with the thick glass.
Seismic activity. I thought it was a regular occurrence on this planet, but he seems unused to it.
He’s fallen now. There’s sanguinary fluid issuing from a wound on his head.
He isn’t moving.
The enclosure tipped as the ground beneath it rolled. The glass shattered, breaking irregularly around where Peter’s body lay.
The spider skittered out, uncertain and afraid. Separation from the scouting party had resulted in her capture. Now, she was trapped in a building, surrounded by sapient life, and liable to be discovered at any moment.
“Peter? Hey, Peter, are you okay?”
The spider glanced over at the body on the floor.
He must be Peter.
She moved quickly. She’d never attempted it before, but she’d seen it done. Arachnakine were no shapeshifters like the Skrull, but camouflage was far from a weak spot for her species.
She slipped into the human’s skin, bending awkwardly as she forced herself to fit. She aligned their nervous systems, and-
“Peter?”
He jolted out of his reverie, realizing he’d been standing at his own front door while staring at the test tube in his hand for the last few minutes. He looked up, seeing a familiar old lady with an equally familiar exasperated expression standing on the porch steps.
“Hi, Aunt May. Sorry I’m late.”
Aunt May crossed her arms, pulling her shawl closer around her shoulders. “Does Jameson have you working on that ridiculous Spider thing again?”
“He always has me working on it. I’m the only one who ever has any decent photos of him, remember?”
She sighed, pressing a hand to her temple. “I remember. Just don’t let Jameson bully you into putting yourself in harm’s way for the sake of a few snapshots.”
He pressed a kiss to her cheek before opening the door for her. “Yes ma’am.”