CHAPTER EIGHT

         Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack. That’s the rhythmic sound my high heels make as I clamber down this dimly lit corridor. Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack. I like it. It’s soothing, almost; and I could definitely use some soothing right now.

        “Status report, Mr. Hopper!” I demand as soon as I reach his desk.

        “Planet-side…, or station-wide?” he mumbles, sounding the least bit interested.

        “Planet-side, of course,” I say as I pull up a chair.

        “Nothing good,” he responds. “As you predicted, we’ve lost the Creo Habitat.”

        “Not a surprise,” I say, grimacing as I cross my arms. “How did it happen?”

        “That, my dear Commander, is the million-dollar question,” says Mr. Hopper as he extends an arm, offering me a folder brimming with a thousand pages. “According to the latest intel reports, the rebels torched the dams; and Mother Nature took care of the rest.”

        Sighing, I glance down at the folder. “Why must you waste my time, Mr. Hopper?”

        “What do you mean?” he asks; his arm still extended towards me. “I thought –”

        “It doesn’t matter what you thought,” I say, shaking my head as I interject. “Just tell me. How many did we lose?”

        Lowering his arm, he says, “Seven thousand.”

        “Seven thousand? I guess that isn’t too bad,” I say, running some numbers through my head before continuing. “Do you think we can start over again? Maybe choose a different building site this time?”

        “Sure, but we’re going to need time.”

        “How much?”

        “Does it matter?” asks Mr. Hopper as he tosses the folder into the nearest waste basket, freeing his hand in the process. “No matter how much time we seem to take, the end result is always the same. The colony fails.”

        “I know, but what other choice do we have? It’s not like we can stay here forever,” I say, trying to be the voice of reason here. “This station wasn’t designed to house us indefinitely. The oxygen regulators alone are barely being held together with duct tape and industrial grade glue.”

        “Then maybe we should re-activate Project Eden?”

        Uncrossing my arms, I lower my head to run my hands down my face; groaning as I say, “You know we can’t do that, Mr. Hopper. We don’t have the resources.”

        “Why not?” he demands, sounding highly antagonistic all of a sudden. “It’s not like we haven’t already wasted numerous resources over the years building and re-building one flawed colony after another.”

        “True, but at least with the colonies, the losses are manageable. Do you not remember what happened the last time we activated Project Eden? The mutations were so chaotic we could barely control them, and the poor souls we experimented on…. No, we can’t go down that road again. Too much blood has already been shed.”

        At that, Mr. Hopper gives me the strangest of looks. “You don’t know, do you?”

        “Know what?” I ask, dreading the answer to come.

        “Those poor souls, you mentioned…, they were never euthanized.”

        “W-what do you mean?”

        “Isn’t it obvious? They’re alive, Commander! Have been this whole time.”

        “Are they the ones tearing my station to pieces?”

        “In part, yes.”

        Oh. Dear. God! “W-we have to do something,” I say, trying my best to maintain some sense of composure even as I feel the panic racing up my spine. “My… m-my son, where is he? Where’s Dan? Adrian? Are they safe?”

        “I don’t know. The other day, I tried sending out a security detail to track them both down; but they ran into a few complications along the way, and never made it back to me.”

        “Then uncomplicate things, and send out more security details!” I demand.

        “Already have,” says Mr. Hopper as he raises his hands at me in a placating gesture.

        “And?”

        “And they’re searching every nook and cranny,” says Mr. Hopper as he continues to try to placate me with his hands. “Believe me when I say they’ll leave no stone unturned.”

        “Good,” I say as I take a deep breath; trying my best to calm down. “Keep me updated, okay? I want to know the minute we have eyes on the both of them.”

        “Of course. Now, onto other matters,” says Mr. Hopper as he checks his wrist device. “I need you to come with me. I’ve set up an emergency meeting with one of the Counselors. He’s currently waiting for you over in Conference Room A.”

        “Okay, but first, can you give me a few minutes to collect myself? I don’t want the Counselor to see me like this,” I say as I find myself searching for something to dab the moisture away from the corners of my eyes.

        “You don’t want him to see you like what?” asks Mr. Hopper, sounding a little confused and sympathetic as he hands me a tissue.

        “Weak,” I say, feeling a wave of raw anger suddenly wash over me as I take the tissue.

         “Alright then. No worries. Just remember…, Conference Room A,” says Mr. Hopper as he gets up to excuse himself from the immediate vicinity. “I’ll see you in a few.”