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Hemlock figured something was amiss when not only Emerie, but also lieutenant Hilo wanted to report on the status of Project Hypnospore. The clone commando stood behind his desk, the light of his visor standing out in his dark office.
"You wanted to speak to me?" Hemlock asked, folding his hand together.
"Yes, sir," Hilo answered. "I was witness to a potential accident involving Dr. Karr in greenhouse 4."
"I see," Hemlock said. “What can you tell me about it?” Emerie had mentioned feeling unwell in the greenhouse from inhaling pollen, but most of her mind was too preoccupied by her grievances about vice-admiral Rampart’s behavior to accurately tell him what exactly happened.
"Dr. Karr and the vice-admiral entered the greenhouse containing the mother plant. I couldn’t see exactly what was going on inside, but when the doctor came back out she almost collapsed."
"Were there any symptoms you noticed?" Hemlock asked.
"Dr. Karr was coughing and was held up by the vice-admiral. No color in her face at all, barely retained consciousness. Overal severely weakened, yet she refused medical assistance." Hemlock had to repress a scowl from hearing that Rampart had his slimy little hands on his assistant.
"Hmm…" he hummed pensively. The original host plant was known to disperse pollen, effective against insects and grazing animals to prevent them from eating the budding plants. It was not known to affect humans or near-human species, which was actually one of the hurdles he was commissioned to overcome. But if Emerie had gotten ill after inhaling the spores, that would mean…
"Our genetic engineering and grafting seems to finally have gotten us results," an evil glint appeared in his eyes, cogs turning in his brain. The feeling of excitement from scientific progress washed over him like a jolt of electricity. Hilo slowly stepped backwards. Once he caught the hunger in the wicked doctor’s eyes, he immediately wanted to leave. It was dangerous to be near the doctor when he was like this.
"Sir?" he asked, getting a little scared. Too late.
"Lieutenant Hilo, follow me."
*
What began as a concern for his sister, turned into a very unpleasant experience. Hilo was currently in the greenhouses, wearing only his helmet and blacks. Under the fabric, there were many patches and stickers connected to life monitors. The icy gaze of Hemlock caught his through the transparisteel of the observation and analysis chamber. A team of technicians were frantically working around him. Most of them had been hastily summoned, some of them having to suddenly work during their off time. But no one complained. If the doctor was on the verge of breakthrough, then there was no stopping him.
"How are you feeling, lieutenant?" Hemlock asked him as if they were casually talking around the Caf machine, and not about to experiment on him.
"Nothing out of the ordinary," Hilo answered. He didn’t want to be used as some labrat, but he just couldn’t refuse Hemlock. Good soldiers followed orders after all. And for Hemlock, that also entailed subjecting willingly to experimentation. Even his sister Emerie abided by that rule, despite never having been a soldier.
"Good, remove your helmet on my signal," Hemlock instructed. Hilo nodded in return. Hemlock watched Hilo’s baseline monitors. Hilo’s heart rate was slightly increased. No matter how professional a clone sounded or acted, the monitors would always betray their fear. Instilling fear in others was Hemlock’s most enjoyable skill, true biological control. After a minute of leaving Hilo with the dread of starting the experiment, Hemlock gave the order.
"Now, remove it." The clone commando’s sunbonnet came off and Hemlock was now staring at a standard crew cut with brown eyes. The clone contorted his face almost immediately, fanning his hand in his face.
"The smell is abhorrent here," he said. "Like rotting leaves and Felucian nectar in the worst possible way."
"Any side effects?" Hemlock inquired.
"Negative, sir."
"Agitate the vines to your right, lieutenant," Hemlock suggested. Hilo looked at the tanglement of vines covering part of the wall next to him. He didn’t know what to expect, so he just casually punched the dark green plant. The vine recoiled violently in a puff of yellow pollen. Hemlock watched the clone immediately starting to gargle and cough, reaching for his throat. Heart monitors were beeping faster and oxygen levels in the blood dipped.
"And how are you feeling now?" Hemlock asked as calm as he was before.
"Can’t…rrgh… breathe…" Hilo stammered out, his voice raw from holding coughs.
"Keep talking," Hemlock instructed. The clone dropped to his knees. Due to his instability, he couldn’t prevent his hand from falling on the vines on the ground. Just the small contact alone released more spores. Hemlock’s observant eye noticed Hilo’s pupil constricting.
"I…aaahrrgg…" The second inhalation dose pushed the clone past his limit. Hilo couldn’t even keep himself up anymore and his head smacked on the ground. The spiking blood pressure suddenly dropped very low. Oxygen levels started getting dangerous.
"Doctor, the subject has lost consciousness," a technician reported. Hemlock smirked. These were very promising first results. The substance knocked a trooper clean out within seconds. Any resistance or ability to fulfill tasks were gone almost instantly. What beautiful concoction of molecules could achieve that? Its mystery would be solved very soon. Hemlock couldn’t wait to get his hands on the clone’s samples. He wanted to control the toxin, like he had with many before. Perhaps he could even refine the substance and make it into a much more potent gaseous form, a perfect biochemical weapon to anyone except him. Hemlock turned his comm channel on.
"Fetch lieutenant Hilo from the greenhouse and bring him to my lab for further study," he ordered.
"Yes sir," another clone commando answered. Hemlock then turned to the technicians around him, who were processing Hilo’s data.
"For safety reasons I will forbid anyone from entering the greenhouses unprotected. A new shipment of breathing masks is slated for delivery soon. Until then consider the room off-limits!"
*
Hemlock stared intently at the clone on his examination table. Hilo’s respiration and heart rate had stabilized. His chest slowly rose and fell with every breath. The crook of his arm was turning blueish brown from where Hemlock had taken several blood samples. Swabs with mucus membrane and residual pollen were currently analyzed and compared to the control sample of a healthy clone. The large terminal spat out component after component. Hemlock’s eyes scanned the images. With his extensive knowledge, he knew which components he could discard immediately. The active substance was obviously able to bind to the blood and block oxygen from reaching cells. This would reflect in its structure. A combination of four molecules caught his attention. The suspect he was looking for could be any of these four, or even a combination of multiple. So much unknown still, but Hemlock had all the time in the world to get to the bottom of it. How would it be broken down by the clone’s system? Blood and urine samples would reveal it in the next few days. For now it didn’t matter.
The current samples gave Hemlock enough information to start slowly introducing the molecule into his system. It wouldn’t be hard to isolate the substances from the pollen for usage in intravenous injections. The thought of it caused a small involuntary twitch in his gloved hand. He rubbed it with his other to soothe the feeling. Part of him was disappointed that the clone didn’t seem to have hallucinations. That, at least, would make the process mildly entertaining for him. Still, the hours of enduring pain and being on the brink of consciousness would be worth it if it meant that he would develop immunity from the pollen. The Slither Vines could prove to be even more dangerous than the Empire had initially thought. And it could cost him greatly if he didn’t prepare for it.
*
It was only two months later when the first large accident happened and Hemlock’s concern would be proven valid. Multiple technician alarms had triggered from the greenhouses. Hemlock was always quick to investigate any alarm. But after learning that one of the alarms came from Emerie’s panic button, he wanted to especially waste no time. Flanked by Scorch and a fully recovered Hilo, the decontamination process was short. The door opened with a hiss, and they arrived at an empty greenhouse. If there had been any staff here, they would already have been evacuated. The commando’s activated their air filters according to protocol. The smell in the room was stuffy and thick, like rotting moss. But considering he hadn’t picked up the sweet undertone that was oh so nauseating to the common person, this room was not what did them in. No, the more likely candidate would be the Mother Plant.
The plant had gotten way too big for even its own greenhouse. The air had become hazy and a dusty yellow color. As soon as he stepped through the automatic door to the second greenhouse, he picked up the characteristic sweetness of the toxic pollen.
“Heat vision picks up three life-forms, sir,” Scorch reported, pointing at the back of the room. It was hard to see beyond the hazy air and tanglement of vines, but he did spot three figures on the ground. Three women, unconscious and breathing very slowly. Arms of dark green plant matter wrapped around their legs, waists and mouths. Breathing masks were laying on the ground, evidently knocked off their faces. The middle woman, auburn hair falling all over her face, was unmistakably Emerie.
"Knife, now!" Hemlock ordered Hilo, who passed the vibroknife from his vambraces. The vines made screeching pained noises as the doctor cut the vines around Emerie away with his surgical precision. Surrounding vines rectracted away, evidently feeling pain. The vines had constricted Emerie’s already lean waist, something that he wanted to check on for bruising later. First he had to stabilize her. Hemlock took the fallen oxygen mask from the floor and secured it back on Emerie’s face. It let out a small hiss when the oxygen supply started up again. He then gently placed a hand on her upper chest to check if her respiration returned to normal. If it were any other situation, he might have 'accidentally' slipped his hand lower, but at this moment Emerie’s well-being took precedence over his personal fun.
Scorch freed the other two technicians. Each commando slung an unconscious woman on their shoulder for relocation.
"Sir, where do you want us to take them?" he asked. Hemlock let his hand go from Emerie. Her expression had gone from pained to peaceful. With ease, he scooped Emerie up.
"Medbay C, notify staff when you get there," Hemlock answered. The two troopers quickly made their way out of the greenhouses and took a turn right towards the medbay. Hemlock, instead, took a turn left towards his personal lab. He was of the opinion that it would be better if he was there when Emerie woke up. And even though her sleeping face was absolutely beautiful, it wouldn’t be healthy to keep her down so long. Fortunately, after weeks of experimentation, Hemlock had figured out that a simple stim could get a patient back to consciousness. He took a small hypo from the inside of his coat next to a set of sedatives. The needle was quickly jammed into Emerie’s arm. And then he watched. Watched how all life in her body returned. Watched how her cool tan face got some warmth back. Watched how she gasped for air. And finally, watched how dark brown eyes, filled with fear and confusion, fluttered open.
"D-Doctor?"