“Why would anyone build a laboratory up here, so close to the top?” I ask. “Solomon was a biomedical researcher, not a geologist. It doesn’t make sense.”
“It does make sense if you don’t want anybody snooping around your work,” Kingo mutters, staring at the building with a mixture of contempt and apprehension.
The closer we get to the origin of this nightmare, the clearer the whole picture becomes, the easier the pieces of the puzzle fit together, and the more disgusted Kingo is. I can’t blame him. I’d feel the same way if I just realized my entire existence on Sunna was built on lies.
“Come on, let’s go in and see what we’re dealing with,” I say, leading the way.
“Wait, do you think Solomon would’ve left anything of his research up here?” Kingo asks.
“Nobody knew about this place,” I tell him. “He’s been comfortably keeping his people in Opal City for decades. I doubt he thought anyone would figure it out. You’ve all been busy fighting and killing one another.”
“Solomon can be brazen and self-assured,” Leela concedes. “It’s part of his nature.”
“Good. Then we’ll use that to our advantage,” I shoot back as we reach the front door.
It’s not open, but I’ve learned a thing or two about picking locks. Five minutes later, we’re inside, lighting a few remaining candles so we can see what the hell we’re looking at. The electrical system is fried, but we’re able to make do with the little that was left behind. It takes a while for Kingo and me to figure out the filing system and to understand the materials at our disposal.
We find research notes, mostly memos, analyses, and scans of various testing subjects. Soon enough, we realize that tests were first done on animals, then people. I’m just about to puke when I come across a folder filled with paper clippings from city news outlets.
“Oh, God,” I mumble as I read through them. “Kingo, Leela, look at these.”
They both come closer and start perusing. I can see from their faces that they’re equally horrified as they, too, connect the dots.
“People started disappearing from the mountain towns,” Kingo mumbles, “months before the plague broke out.”
“And no one thought to investigate properly. It’s all women and a couple of men, see?” I ask, pointing at one of the clippings. “Don’t tell me these news bits were collected for the sake of posterity.”
“No, they were keeping track of their own activities and how they were interpreted by the public,” Kingo says.
“They were test subjects,” Leela concludes, one hand with trembling fingers resting on her chest. “They were never found, by the looks of it.”
“I’ll bet you all the gold of Sunna; we’ll find them buried out back,” I say, shaking my head in dismay before moving on to another folder. This one is labeled Successful Trial #12. As soon as I flip through the first pages, coming across scribbled notes and photos of the test subject, it’s clear I’m reading about the successful infection of a healthy, young female.
The more we read, the harder it gets for me to keep it together. Anger and nausea tighten in my throat. My stomach burns and aches at the same time. There’s a bitter taste in my mouth. I toss another file on the dusty table between us.
“Yet another successful infection,” I snap. “None of the tested males got it. Only the females. He had some hits and misses with his animal testing, but the Sunnaite subjects all got the results he desired.”
“You’re right. Cynthia was right all along,” Kingo replies, then shows Leela a page from a fourth folder. “Look at the names of the researchers in charge of the experiment.”
“Solomon Daron,” Leela reads her husband’s name aloud.
“They didn’t call it the plague, obviously. They gave it an inconspicuous nickname,” Kingo scoffs. “Strain 14B. They mingled these documents with other experiments, other innocuous or mild strains of other diseases, so if anybody went digging through this stuff, they wouldn’t immediately catch on.”
“Smart, but not smart enough,” I reply. “Or maybe Solomon simply thought he was smarter than everybody else.”
Leela gives me a half-smile. “He does think he’s smarter than everybody else.”
“Case in point,” I say, opening yet another file. “Subject 24. Successful infection. Resistant to all known forms of antibiotics. Kingo, you read the rest. It’s a whole other language for me, but I’m sure Cynthia will easily confirm my thoughts on this.”
“I can do that now,” Kingo mutters, going over the file. “This is it. It’s everything we’ve been looking for. Alicia, we did it. I can’t believe it.” He pauses and looks at Leela. “We couldn’t have done it without you. I doubt Solomon would’ve allowed us to make it all the way up here on the eastern ridge.”
She shakes her head. “He wouldn’t have allowed you to go past Kaos Town.”
“We owe you a debt of gratitude,” I say, quick to gather as many of these files as I can carry in my bag. With what Kingo will bring in his own satchel, we’ll have enough to present our case before the Sky Tribe and the Fire Tribe by the end of this year. Hopefully, the Sky Tribe will be short yet another starship by the time we get to talk to them about this.
“Leela, I’m sorry. I am deeply sorry for everything. I imagine it cannot be easy to awaken from such a lie.”
“I’m glad,” she says. “As much as it hurts, the truth will always be better than a lie. I just can’t believe it. This whole time, I’ve been sleeping with and serving the very man who destroyed our world.”