09-10-2016, 10:51 PM
Katch frowned as Jon mentioned government infiltration. Although she hated to admit it, he was probably right. At least, Noah had said as much to her along the same lines. She sipped her coffee. Interesting flavor. Not her usual fare, but she could see the allure.
As Jon made his farewells, she turned to Mr. Trujillo. "I don't know anything about government infiltration,"
she told him. "I mean, I studied the Sickness for the Centers for Disease Control. Mostly samples and research and the like. I really don't know what ever became of the samples, though. We were required to take down information as a part of a registry for tracking the Sickness. And I honestly don't know what came of that information. I didn't operate inside the United States, myself."
Katch considered the question. Certainly even though she saw little evidence of wrongdoing on the surface at the CDC, could she discount it? "But the native tribes have been very, very cold toward letting the researchers in. My father -- he didn't trust the hospitals and he didn't trust the government, either. Instead he took me to a doctor on a reservation who kept me safe. He knew something about the truth of the Sickness years before anything else came out. And he told me about the Atharim, too. Said the first people he sent to the hospitals all had 'accidents.'"
Hm. Her last conversation in Atlanta had put a bad taste in her mouth that couldn't be washed away with a good coffee. Why had that major been so insistent on getting her here? Intel, he said. She leaned in toward Mr. Trujillo and and bit her lip. What she said next would probably cost her her job, but it was of no consequence. Katch already knew that she was done with Atlanta one way or another. "The truth is,"
she continued in a hushed voice, "I'm not here to represent my tribe. That's just a pretense to get me here under the Council's rules. The CDC under the new organization ordered me to come here and spy on the Council. I don't like it and I don't understand why they would do something like that. I figured I'd go along until I could figure a way out of it. But now I'm here."
Well, there it was. But Katch could see something in Mr. Trujillo's eyes. He could be trusted with that. And perhaps he could help her get out of that blasted pickle she was in. Indeed, he had the look of an ally. At least she hoped he was.
As Jon made his farewells, she turned to Mr. Trujillo. "I don't know anything about government infiltration,"
she told him. "I mean, I studied the Sickness for the Centers for Disease Control. Mostly samples and research and the like. I really don't know what ever became of the samples, though. We were required to take down information as a part of a registry for tracking the Sickness. And I honestly don't know what came of that information. I didn't operate inside the United States, myself."
Katch considered the question. Certainly even though she saw little evidence of wrongdoing on the surface at the CDC, could she discount it? "But the native tribes have been very, very cold toward letting the researchers in. My father -- he didn't trust the hospitals and he didn't trust the government, either. Instead he took me to a doctor on a reservation who kept me safe. He knew something about the truth of the Sickness years before anything else came out. And he told me about the Atharim, too. Said the first people he sent to the hospitals all had 'accidents.'"
Hm. Her last conversation in Atlanta had put a bad taste in her mouth that couldn't be washed away with a good coffee. Why had that major been so insistent on getting her here? Intel, he said. She leaned in toward Mr. Trujillo and and bit her lip. What she said next would probably cost her her job, but it was of no consequence. Katch already knew that she was done with Atlanta one way or another. "The truth is,"
she continued in a hushed voice, "I'm not here to represent my tribe. That's just a pretense to get me here under the Council's rules. The CDC under the new organization ordered me to come here and spy on the Council. I don't like it and I don't understand why they would do something like that. I figured I'd go along until I could figure a way out of it. But now I'm here."
Well, there it was. But Katch could see something in Mr. Trujillo's eyes. He could be trusted with that. And perhaps he could help her get out of that blasted pickle she was in. Indeed, he had the look of an ally. At least she hoped he was.