Late 1977
Three years passed. That distant dream of Spencer's to grow hydra-like into the militaries of the world began, the seedling connection of the Simmons began to hybridize and bear its terrible, grafted fruit.
As far as the reports coming out of the Antarctic base were concerned, the scientific advancements of the Ashford branch had stalled. Marigold's work was successful enough, and the report themselves seemed reliable. Spencer, for all he knew, would have expected little from a geneticist with a fragment of the understanding necessary. The loss of Lord Ashford had assured that. A loose end? Certainly. but a neutralized and sated one.
No one paid much mind when Marigold booked off a six-month span over the Christmas holiday to the ancestral governor's mansion located on Rockfort Island.
'Aunt Callie?'
The heavy oak door clicked shut behind Marigold when the little voice rang out. She turned to see a small girl with blonde hair. Alexia had grown like a weed since she had last come two years prior. The six-year-old held a self-possessed stillness that seemed unnatural for her age, but entirely in keeping for the staggering gains she had been making, if Alexander's hints had been anything to go by.
Marigold smiled at the young girl and crouched down. She had worn a set of cotton gloves, with a matching cotton mask, on coming into the house (Alexander's request), so she made sure the expression reached her eyes. It seemed satisfactory, and the girl smiled back. Her self-possession held though. Perhaps her father had cautioned her to hold a distance until a few tests could be performed.
Alfred, her twin brother, held no such compunction and was every ounce a six-year-old boy. He rocketed past his sister- 'CallieCAllieCallieyoucamehihihi' - straight at his aunt, to the young girl's chagrin. Marigold spotted the tiny blond missile and caught him around the middle, straightening to swing the little boy up and around before setting him back on his feet. The little boy shrieked in glee as he went briefly airborne. He giggled as she him back on his feet, giving him an affectionate boop on the nose. "Hullo, little crow." Alfred giggled in response.
The girl looked ready to admonish her brother, then stopped, fixing Marigold with a sidelong look. "Father wasn't expecting you for a few more hours, but he'll want to see you first thing, given your condition." The last few words were shot toward Alfred. He blushed and murmured an apology. The two must have been given instructions on maintaining distance after all. Still, she was being careful. Marigold- Callie, to these two, latinizing and shortening her name - made a show of adjusting her cotton face mask for better coverage, and folded her hands in front of her, as if awaiting inspection from the young girl. The solemn girl gave a short nod of approval- good god, the child was really only six but seemed thirty sometimes - and turned on her heel, expecting to be followed.
The little boy, chagrined only a moment ago, grinned at her as if they shared a great secret and ran along to catch up with his sister.
Their aunt followed in their wake.
Alexander had been drawn into a telephone call from his operations head for the new Antarctic facility. While the facility had been completed, the opulence of the Spencer influence was unmistakable in the design. Supplying the site was...an experience. Rough seas and rougher skies on a budget that 'forgot' to factor in logistics had meant that Rockfort Island was slipping further and further into the Umbrella fold every year.
Alexia's voice, and two others, floated down the hall towards his study, and he cut off the operations manager with a curt apology and farewell. The budget was critical, but his little girl was progressing in her education at lightning speed. Enough, to say, take on the truly lucrative work in decoding the virus. He could spare an evening and focus on the present.
The two young children tumbled into his study, moving at their own respective paces to the far side of his desk. Marigold appeared a moment later, gloved and masked, stopping just beyond the threshold of the room. She removed her mask without prompting and gave him a wan smile. "Hello, little brother."
Alexander sighed. The light in here was strong, given the long days of the South Pacific Christmas season and north-facing window. "Still haven't aged a day, I see."
Marigold shrugged. "So long as I avoid Spencer, it's really not a problem. Even then, if I have time to put myself together. I'll have a few years of people assuming I have an excellent doctor in New York. I read some remarkable things about botulism toxin being used for cosmetic uses the other day.
"How far does that plan take you?"
Marigold's eyes shifted to the young girl, who was watching her attentively. "Not forever," she admitted. "Not if I'm keeping off the radar while holding the spotlight, as it were." Not to mention that she could telegraph an advancing maturity with clothing choices and an affected sense of vanity without drawing unwanted attention. "Arklay should be shifting management sooner than later. Once that's tipped over the edge, maybe a few more years. Less than I'd have in a business as usual scenario."
Alexander's eyes narrowed. "He's the bulwark there? We both know how unstable that man is."
"Spencer always bent over backward to keep him onside, before. Marcus always resented losing control over the work itself though." Bailey still toiled in the installation that had grown up around that horrid cave. "There's a rumour that he'll go off and publish before letting Spencer swoop in and snatch it up. I doubt the-" She cut herself off under the inquisitive eyes of the children, then cleared her throat. "There's more pride and temper in that facility than sense. Marcus wouldn't notice a trap if you set it in his hands yourself."
Alexander chuckled. "I supposed you'd know. I always worried that he'd come after us...after. You know how it was." As a test case, James Marcus had been a shockingly solid exposure candidate. Marigold had warned no one that she was going to do it and told almost no one till after the funeral in order to control information. The monstrous, callous nature of how she had been infected had only evoked a mild pique that her body had managed to process something none of his experiments had - and that she had kept it to herself. The fact that he hadn't acted out already, well...
It wouldn't last. Couldn't. Marcus was deeply unstable, true, but he was also deeply ambitious. That ambition, and a strong chemical compulsion, had kept him from revealing *her* secret for almost a decade now.
Marigold's privacy had been a key priority for the last decade now. That deal she had helped to broker with the Americans a few years earlier had been a major foray back into public life for her - tours, photographs, meeting with investors, the works. The mystery only whetted the appetites of those who wanted in on the burgeoning Umbrella empire. Under her hand, smaller research laboratories suddenly had deals for better equipment and access, for a major stake in their businesses. Alexander himself had seen part of this windfall; The operation of his base would have come to a complete standstill rather than an occasional stall.
But she also *loathed* James Marcus. From their regular conversations, It was clear the Alexander that she delighted in undercutting him in a thousand little ways. Through the grapevine, it seemed as if Marcus took ill at even the hint that she was coming to the small town adjacent to the Arklay lab. It was clear enough that this special attention paid to these headquarters was hardly an accident. Spencer seemed fond enough of the young woman to allow these seemingly harmless antics to persist - it certainly seemed to put Marcus in his place quite effectively - but sooner or later, she'd take it just a *bit* too far.
Alexander signed and stood up. His young daughter straightened, anticipating the next step. "Well, let's head down, and we'll take some readings. I need to see your notes, and you can tell me more about this five-year plan of yours."
The laboratory space was located, oddly enough, just off the dining room, in a room that had once been earmarked for occupation by the staff in a nineteenth-century style. It was comfortable and somewhat cozy, with decent ventilation and a cloistered view. The small benches, suspiciously sized, along with a bookcase stuffed with pre-med textbooks, suggested that this was where a large part of Alexia's education was conducted.
The girl herself had situated herself quite dutifully behind a makeshift glass panel, a sort of observation theatre, dragging her brother in behind her. Alexander had seemed annoyed by it on entering. Marigold picked up on this, stripping off the light jacket and day gloves while settling in. "I thought you had a proper facility set up around the last time I visited?"
Alexander grunted. "It's staffed. No good for this work. I can keep any samples anonymized and in-house if no one outside the family interacts with it, but I'd prefer not to take chances with that." More researchers, more people who actually had a damned clue. Alexia was starting to pick up the basics of virology, and he himself had broken the code on intelligence thanks to the headstart Marigold's blood had provided.
Marigold hummed in contemplation. "The company's grown, certainly. More military spending, more secrecy. Europe's been solidly networked in." She slid a pressure cuff onto her arm, plucking the syringe from the table before he brother could reach for it. "Sorry, you know I've been doing this for years though. You know about exposure." They waited as she filled up several vials, then slid the needle from the vein. "Your facility will either need to grow soon or be self-sustaining. Do you have people you trust? Spencer will staff this place if you're not ready to plot the course and hold it."
The small girl chose this moment to join the conversation, from behind the barrier. "Why do we need them? The ones in the other lab are slow, and they make mistakes."
Marigold looked to her brother, who shrugged. "We're understaffed. We've been stalled on the work for a while now, and it's hard to draw in good people to somewhere this remote without a good reason. I don't suppose Marcus' management style would turn up a few loose researchers? The management school is still new, but..."
"You won't," Marigold responded shortly. "I know you disagree with me on this. He...Spencer only has kept him on the leash for this long because he can leverage his ambition. He thinks Marcus wants to train his competition. Do you not remember what happened when he was shown the competition existed?" She shuddered. She had started having nightmares recently, of blood and mutagenic horrors. Just dreams, but something about them unsettled her deeply in her waking hours. "And anyone he trains will learn exactly what sort of monster they ought to be in order to thrive in the company." She looked at the girl again, eyes sad. "The isolation here will make it harder for them to move in the world. And...I've been getting headaches again. They hardly need me anymore at this rate, but I know enough to bury them."
"Retire." Alexander's face was grim, but something in his eyes glittered. "You said you had a five-year plan? Come out here. You're better trained than most of the people I have here, and it'll be easier to manage. Besides, more hands make light work." And someone will need to be able to communicate with Alexia on something resembling her level, he left unsaid. Only six years old, and she was already developing a baseline grasp of his own work. Bringing "Callie" in while the children still craved their approval could only help matters.
"I can't."
"You won't."
"No, I can't! We've been keeping all of this under the radar, Alex! What do you think will happen if they figure it out?!" His eyes darted toward the glass barrier for emphasis. "They'll come for anyone I've had prolonged contact with. The staff at the estate. My office. No one I work with knows anything about the virus, but all of the resources are pointing towards bioweapons." Alexander looked away at this. Marigold gave a resigned sigh. "There always seemed to be so much time to organize. Where did it all go?"
Alexander went silent. for a moment. Then, "tell me more about the headaches. They usually come with a spike in the exposure factor. I can get you suppressants for the pheromones, but you'll only be able to take them for a few days at a time before you have to flush them out. I don't like the look of the records you took the last time we tried that route, but we can calibrate the formula while you're here."
Casually, she picked up the empty glass syringe and crushed it without so much as a wince. She opened a bloodless hand filled with shards. "If the old track is on the grounds, I can manage a small demonstration. I can't rightly say how much furniture I've accidentally destroyed over the last few months." She fixed him with a glare. "I can also hear your heart rate going out of control. As much as coming to live here might help for a while, we both know the risks. She looked apologetically at Alexia, who'd seemed hopeful till now. "Reputations are fickle things, dear. If the company finds out about me before I'm ready for them, then your hands will need to be clean."
A squeak came from the wall behind them. "Both of you," Marigold amended. A moment later, Alfred appeared at the door, hesitating only a moment before scurrying back to joining his twin behind the barrier. "I wish you'd consider coming back to England on occasion. They both need to get used to people." She smiled at the little boy. "Sorry, I have a hide-and-seek championship to defend, young man."
Alexander glanced at the intrusion, then turned back. "I have tutors on the island, and there's a governess. It's been working well enough. Enough riddles, you're being cryptic again."
Marigold slumped in her seat. "I'm being cryptic. Yes, well. Tell me your plan here," she nodded to the children, "And I can work out a five-year plan to clear the way. We can set up the contingencies while I'm still here, and we can see. Beyond that? We'll have to set up contingencies for while I'm here, and can discuss things more freely." She smiled then, the old smirk mixed with something predatory. "I've reached out to a few old contacts, and they've given me a few names. In the meantime, I can do rather a lot with the network I have without exposure."
