She looked into his eyes and he glared back. His grip tightened
painfully on her wrist and she could feel his anger welling up. Despite her
fear, she held his gaze. Her hands were shaking, but she didn’t care anymore.
Finally, he released her hand by pushing it away with enough force to nearly
knock her over backwards.
“You should be afraid,” he growled as he turned to leave.
Stopping at the door, he jabbed a finger toward her. “Just get me into this
program as one of the first volunteers. If you don’t, I will hunt down your
friends and kill them all—I know where to find them. I’ll kill them slowly,
just like the Woodalls and their kids.”
Joann gasped and her hands flew to cover her mouth.
“That’s right. If you’ve never believed anything before
. . . believe this.
Get me on the list!
”
Joann’s mind was spinning after Reave left, and she couldn’t
concentrate. Learning that he was the one who killed her friends shook her
confidence and left her feeling helpless.
She did believe his threat, and she now knew he was every
bit as dangerous as he acted. At first she was adamantly against giving him
even more power and better weapons, but soon she began to think about the
implications of such a move. Before the day ended, she had convinced herself
that it would be better to have him in sight and under the control of the
program rather than running free and unrestrained.
Despite the risk in her gamble, she felt the best path
forward was to include him on the subjects list, and let the Truebloods take
care of the rest.
After all,
she told herself for the hundredth time
that day,
the new control systems will ensure he stays in line.
Regardless of the logic, her self-assurances didn’t relieve her feelings of
foreboding.
**** ****
For the first time for almost as
long as he could remember, Renard Trueblood was excited about a Council
meeting. Avelina Baksa was ready to unveil her new weapons program, this time
under Trueblood control.
She would not do the presentation in person. Renard had
become paranoid about her safety, especially considering the value in her
ability to create generational leaps in weapons technology.
She is truly
gifted, but what a strange bend on her genius,
Renard thought.
I wonder
what she could accomplish in other fields if she put her mind to it. Did we do
the right thing in channeling her abilities this way?
He shrugged off his
thoughts, all too happy to be the recipient of her genius.
This time, Renard had told himself again and again, this
time I’ll do it right. No Council involvement, no Consensus Research and
Development Lab, no other controlling interests, and most of all no chance of
Pryke stealing away control!
Renard ran through the possible variations on the speech he
would give to the Council. He wanted to tell them to go back home and huddle in
the squalor of whatever scraps he deemed worthy to send their way.
He wanted to wipe the smug look off Stacey Magourik’s face;
she
always thinks she’s on higher moral ground
. He smiled to himself as he
thought of the unfathomable riches lost because their ancestors, the Yeboah
twins, handed out the wormhole technology to “the people” so many centuries
ago.
Holier-than-thou—ha! Poorer-than-thou is more like it.
He considered the possibility of removing Esme Burdekin from
the Council altogether since she really served no purpose, and had been getting
cozy with Pryke for too long. His brow furrowed at the thought, even though he
no longer needed to fear an alliance there. Not anymore, thanks to his new
weapons.
He coveted the Kline drive monopoly, so well established and
perfectly maintained.
Now that’s the proper way to build a fortune,
he
thought, and wished he could take it for himself. However, there was one
problem: he actually
liked
Jonathan Kline, and wouldn’t want to lose his
support.
Finally, he considered the Prykes.
Upshot, usurper, thug,
deviant, thief
. . . his list of names went on and on. He dreamed
of destroying every last one of them and every planet they infested. He felt
the heat rising in his face and sweat formed on his forehead. On paper their
wealth appeared legitimate, but everyone knew they were fronting massive
organized crime. They just couldn’t prove it. Not even Jeffrey Allen could
crack their cover. Renard looked forward to the day he could expose the Prykes
and throw Alexander into the deepest, darkest dungeon he could find.
I don’t
suppose I’d get away with an actual dungeon, but I’m sure we could find
something nasty!
Renard knew these were simply fantasies because he wouldn’t
dare disrupt the Consensus by destroying the Council. After all, it would be
worthless to have singular rule over a crumbling empire, and the ruthlessness
required would destroy the benevolent character he’d worked so hard to cultivate.
The high priest of Kyndraism could hardly be seen as a bloodthirsty tyrant. No,
he’d have to settle for complete and undisputed control of the Council, and
thereby the Consensus. Renard smiled and ran through some more lines he might
use in the Council meeting.
He entered the meeting room almost on time. He realized it
went against his habit of making everyone wait, but he was too eager to make
his presentation. Alexander was sitting at the table, looking dark and brooding
as always, with Esme seated next to him, leaning toward him. Renard anticipated
seeing fear in his eyes.
Jonathan stood as Renard entered, shaking his hand warmly.
Renard smiled in genuine pleasure, hoping that Jonathan would not be pushed
away by the upcoming revelations. Stacey stood apart, looking out the window at
the star field beyond. There was nothing noteworthy in the view, Renard
noticed, so he assumed she was posing for effect.
“Let’s get started, please,” Renard said as he took his
seat. “If you’ll bow your heads—”
“No prayers, Renard, let’s get down to business.” Alexander
interjected while the others looked uncomfortable, unsure whether to pray or
not.
Renard recited his prayer anyway, but Alexander kept talking
over him. “Where’s the Demon, Renard? We haven’t heard from him in weeks!”
Alexander leaned forward, punctuating his question by poking his finger into
the table.
Renard ignored him and continued to pray. He made a point to
go a little longer than usual.
“Sit down, Alex,” Renard said softly.
“I want answers!” Alexander said through clenched teeth. “This
was your cursed project from day one and now where are we? Any closer to
shutting down dissension? Any closer to quieting the rebellious factions? NO!”
Renard looked across the table at Alexander in his belligerent
pose with his anger so plainly written on his face and he marveled at the man’s
acting ability. Surely he must realize that his infiltration had been
compromised and the Truebloods had exposed it.
Surely he must know,
Renard thought as he watched the
man’s anger grow and grow,
yet he continues the façade?
Finally, Renard couldn’t take it anymore, and he laughed.
Out loud and with true mirth, he laughed. It felt good to laugh, it had been
too long.
Seething, but impotent, Alexander waited for a moment until
Renard’s laughter subsided. Finally he asked “Are you done? Can we actually get
something done now?”
“Of course, of course,” Renard replied, wiping tears from
his eyes. “Whatever you’d like, Junior.”
“Really Renard,” Stacey dropped into the conversation, “what
has gotten into you?” Her voice was haughty as always, but Renard sensed a
curiosity in her tone.
“Too much time in Kyndra’s whore house, that’s what,”
Alexander growled.
Stacey threw him a disgusted look one would give an immature
boy. “What has gotten you into such an . . . unusual mood? Please,
let us all in on the joke.”
“No joke,” Renard replied, “but good news nonetheless.” He
paused to gather his thoughts. “As some of you know, Dr. Baksa has been safely
under my protection for quite some time now. I wouldn’t want you to think her
time has been spent in leisure, however. I assure you she has been hard at
work.”
Alexander snorted and made a comment under his breath, but
Renard ignored him.
“Avelina has been hard at work indeed. And today she is
ready to announce her latest contribution to the defense of the Consensus and
all it stands for. Unlike her ill-fated attempt with the Demon, this time
everything is accounted for and under control.”
No one spoke, but he could feel the excitement building in
the room. He imagined he could sense some fear, too, at least he hoped so.
“I could not have Avelina come here in person, for obvious
reasons, but she will be connecting here to present her findings herself.” Once
he finished his sentence, he sent a command to the table and a projection of
Avelina Baksa appeared to be standing with them in the room.
“Gentlemen, ladies,” she said formally with an inclination
of her head, “I’m honored to be with you once again. As you know, my last
development, the Demon, took many long years to develop, due mostly to the
difficulty of creating and working with the exotic material D-SAP. Soon after its
completion, the shortcomings of the Demon became quite obvious, and now, the
project is at an end. I apologize for my failure, and I hope to make it up to
you with my newest endeavor.
“The inherent problem with the Demon project was the attempt
to fuse a completely unnatural material, D-SAP, into the human. I have solved
this problem by using completely natural raw materials this time; by which I
mean derived from natural parts of the human body. I call the resultant a
Biologically Augmented Human.”
“If I my interject, Dr. Baksa,” Renard interrupted, “there
was another problem with the Demon—that of control. We did not provide enough
control in the Demon operating system to ensure his compliance with our
commands, nor with even our laws. Eventually he went rogue and we were forced
to terminate the program. Regrettable, but necessary. Now, Dr. Baksa, please
continue.”
“Thank you, Reverend, and as always, your insights are keen.”
She proceeded with her description of altered human cells, modified to have
amazing properties through a combination of genetics and nanotechnology. She
kept the descriptions as non-technical as she felt possible, but no one in the
room was able to comprehend what she told them anyway. Once she got past the
descriptions of process, and started talking about capabilities, everyone in
the room found themselves engaged.
The ‘Augies,’ as Renard called them despite Dr. Baksa’s
protests, were faster and stronger than any normal human being, and could
out-perform the Demon in these respects as well. Their exoskeletons were very
tough, although not nearly impervious like D-SAP, but much more flexible.
Coupled with redesigned and improved joint structure, they were extremely agile
and boasted a nearly unlimited range of motion. Their bodies produced power
through chemical, solar, and many other means, besides the mundane eating and
drinking. When it came to physically ingesting food, they could eat most
anything organic and inorganic, drawing power through a chemical breakdown of
any conceivable material. If they could ingest it, they could use it for fuel.
Pure firepower fell short in comparison to the Demon, but he
had proven how overrated such power could be. In a stationary, toe-to-toe
firefight, the Demon would surely prevail. However, the Augies would never
allow themselves to be drawn into such a fight; stealth, speed, and
maneuverability would be their greatest weapons.
Once the presentation was complete, the image of Dr. Baksa
faded away. The stunned silence did not last long. Questions came from all of
the Council members at once, and Renard took his time answering them with as
little information as possible. He enjoyed their growing trepidation, and he
had no intention of relieving them.
Finally, he stood to leave and draw the meeting to a close.
He stopped and turned back at a question from Jonathan.
“When, Renard? When will you have them online?”
“Soon, very soon. We’ll have our volunteers in the next few
weeks, and we will have a half-dozen Augies operational in about twelve weeks.”
Chapter Fourteen
Damon concentrated on his glass of
water and tried to ignore the people scurrying all around him. There was always
someone poking or prodding him, testing this or that, and he was near the end
of his patience. It was like the first days after becoming the Demon, back
before all the killing and bloodshed. Back when he thought he understood what
was happening and what role he played. Back when he spent time with Joann.
Which reminded him of the time he first met Joann. When she
came to take him away from the life he had enjoyed at home.
I don’t even
know the name of the City! Or even the system. It was just “The City.”
It was just home.
She took him away from the only life he knew. And from the
family he loved.
It made sense to him at the time. He thought he only had one
choice. He truly believed he was doing the right thing to help the Family. He
didn’t know where it would take him, the things he would see, the things he
would do.
She took him away from all of it. She took him away from Andrea.
Andrea.
He could still hear her voice. All the lessons he sat
through, just soaking up the sound of her voice. To him, that sound
was
love. Why then, when he thought of Andrea, did he see Joann’s face? He didn’t
like it, but the memories of the two were coalescing.
Joann.
He didn’t
really
know her. Not like he knew Andrea. Joann
was there for him during a scary time, since he had never been away from the
Family. He’d never been away from Andrea.
Andrea.
Her voice had been fading lately, not there to give him
advice like it had so often early on. Now he wondered if it was the sound of
her
voice he remembered. Or was it Joann’s?
Joann.
Joann made the transition easier. She gave him friendship
when he didn’t know anyone. Still, he didn’t know her like he knew Andrea. He’d
spent years working and learning under Andrea. She practically raised him.
They’d made a great team.
Unfortunately, he never had the chance to make it into
something more. But what would have happened if he’d said no to Joann and
stayed home? What would have happened?
Andrea.
How did I get this so messed up? How in
Kyndra’s
Benevolent Kingdom
am I going to fix it?
His thoughts were interrupted when a tech disconnected a
patch cord from the newly-installed plug in his wrist. Once the small panel was
closed and sealed, he couldn’t even see it with his vision on maximum
magnification. He could see, however, where the D-Sap had been patched and
stretched. Not stretched, exactly, but they made the wrist smaller during
repairs in order to compensate for the missing D-Sap scales.
He flexed the wrist and rotated it through its entire range
of motion. Memories of the days before his alteration made him think it should
hurt as he moved it, like it should be sore after the extensive surgery he’d
undergone.
Completely repaired. He still couldn’t believe it. Well, not
completely repaired, he reminded himself, since the Trip-PC in that wrist could
not be fixed or replaced. I guess one power-hungry heavy weapon is enough for
anyone.
Leland McKrae entered, and Damon tried not to watch him. He
couldn’t look Leland in the eye, knowing that many of the man’s friends had
died by Damon’s actions.
“How are you feeling Damon?” Leland asked as he sat down
directly across from Damon.
“I’m all right—good I guess. I feel good, actually, but
. . .” Damon stuttered and stumbled, looking anywhere but at the man
across from him.
“Damon, it’s okay. Look at me.” Leland reached out and
grabbed Damon’s chin, lifting his face to look him in the eye. “In the end, you
were trying to undo what you started; you were trying to save us.”
Damon clenched his eyes shut against the welling up of
tears. He suddenly couldn’t swallow.
“Your decision to come back,” Leland continued, “against all
logic, to try and save us is the only thing that matters.”
Tears rolled down Damon’s face, but he opened his eyes and
met Leland’s gaze. “But how? How can you forgive me? All of those good people
are dead! When I tried to help I only led the soldiers to them and more died.
No matter what I tried to do, it didn’t work. More people are dead because of
me.”
“No. Not more,” Leland interrupted firmly. “Fewer died
because you came down and tried to fix what you had done. We ask no more than
that. We don’t ask a person to be perfect, no one will never be perfect, not
even close. All we can expect, and all we do expect, is for you to try and make
it right. To fix your mistakes to the best of your ability. Judging from the
fact that we had to carry you out of there, I’d say it’s pretty obvious that
you gave it everything you’ve got.”
“But still, how can you forgive me?”
“That, my friend, is what we strive to learn all our lives.
It’s the core of our beliefs. Very simple to understand, almost impossible to
comprehend.”
**** ****
Another Council meeting called by
Renard. Alexander bristled at the thought. He wants to rub the Augies in our
face again!
Alexander’s thoughts spiraled downward into anger and
frustration as they had so many times since the Augies were first announced two
weeks ago.
I have got to find a way to counter this new threat.
He’d
been through all of the options time and time again, but came up with nothing.
The Truebloods had Avelina Baksa, Joann Tashus, and every
other prominent scientist of our time. The Pryke R&D teams were nowhere
near as effective and not one of them would be considered gifted. Alexander had
tried motivating them through exorbitant salaries and perks, and he had tried
his favored method of threat and intimidation. Nothing he tried caused the
teams to develop anything truly innovative.
Once his ship docked, he entered the airlock entrance to the
meeting place. They always met in different locations, of course, and this one
was perilously close to Havyn, the Trueblood homeworld. Yet another sign that
Renard was getting cocky.
Alexander walked down the hallways carved out of the
interior of this asteroid and marveled at the luxurious fit and finish.
What
an incredible waste of time and money.
He thought, feeling superior to
Renard in this respect. His own utilitarian spaces were much more practical and
could be produced at a fraction of the cost and time.
He entered the meeting room and found the others already
waiting, except for Renard, of course. He took his seat next to Esme and
grunted his reply to her greeting. He just couldn’t bring himself to exchange
pleasantries in his current mood.
Surprisingly, Renard entered only a couple of minutes later.
He greeted each of them by name, and Alexander wanted to strangle him. Instead
he clenched his hands painfully tight under the table and gritted his teeth
through the inane prayer.
“Why are we here?” he asked as soon as Renard concluded.
Renard smiled again, and spread his hands expansively. “I
promise not to take up much of your time. I merely want you to meet the
volunteers for our Biologically Augmented Human program—the very men and women
who will ensure the peace and harmony in our Consensus.”
“Take up much of my time?” Alexander growled as he stood
quickly, knocking over his chair. “Not take much of my time! Between travel
. . . and arrangements . . . and . . . and
. . . arg!” His words degraded into incoherent growling.
He started for the door as a line of people began walking in
the room. Not wanting to be there one second longer, he moved to push his way
through the newcomers. What he saw next stopped him in his tracks.
Through the door walked Reave Nachman.
Alexander felt as if his legs might buckle beneath him.
Momentarily stunned, he could only stare at the man who now represented his own
salvation. Reave made a slight flicking motion with his eyes, which snapped
Alexander out of his shock.
“OK, as long as I’m here, I’ll meet them. But be quick!”
Alexander grumbled, but he did not return to his seat. He remained standing
where he was, awkwardly between the meeting table and the door. The six
volunteers were forced to walk around him as they came in.
At times like this, he was thankful for the paranoia that
drove him to use extreme measures to ensure his safety and security. It was a
known fact that modern communications could be intercepted by enemies, and no
matter how strong the encryption, it could always be cracked by someone with
unlimited funds and determination to match. Therefore, Alexander had insisted
that his tech-guys develop a means of absolutely secure communication.
Their solution was simple, and every Pryke operative was
equipped with the appropriate gear. It consisted of microscopic contacts
embedded in the palm of the hands, that when touched to the hand of another
person similarly equipped, formed a direct connection allowing completely
secure transfer of information. Obviously limited in its application, it would
serve his purpose perfectly in this situation. Alexander quickly composed a
message to Reave while Renard rambled on in some insipid speech.
Once completed, Renard introduced each candidate
individually. Alexander took advantage of his odd location in the room and made
a show of shaking hands with each person. Reave was fourth in line, and
Alexander carefully ensured he spent the same exact amount of time greeting him
as all the others. His HUD indicated that his message transferred successfully,
and that Reave had also passed a message as well. Alexander hurried out of the
room, purposefully grumbling to maintain the appearance of his anger. In truth,
he couldn’t believe his good fortune.
Back on his ship, speeding toward home, he accessed the
message from Reave. It was a detailed account of everything he had done since
going undercover in the Trueblood unit, as well as details about the mission
prior to that time.
I knew I did the right thing sending him in deep!
Alexander
thought as he gave himself the credit for everything Reave had accomplished.
After reading through the report for nearly an hour, he
found an appendix that gave startling estimates of Trueblood military
effectiveness, and some details of the defenses at the Spire.
This is it,
Alexander thought, his hands shaking from
the overwhelming shock.
I finally have everything I need to kill that
sanctimonious bastard and bring the entire Trueblood family down.
The most
satisfying part of the revelation was that Renard himself had provided the
weapons for his own destruction. It was his own Augies that would bring his
demise.
Provided that Reave can pull off one more monumental task.
Of course, with the information I gave him, he ought to be able to figure
something out!
Alexander spent the rest of the trip planning his attack and
making arrangements for everything he would need. Once he got back to his
office, he would be able to lay out the plan to his most trusted advisers and
they would fill in and take care of the details.
**** ****
Joann thought about killing him.
It would be so easy with him there in the vat undergoing
treatments to turn him into a killing machine. She’d be doing the Consensus a
favor, no one would argue that point.
However, no one would ever believe it was a mistake, and
she’d be tried and convicted and probably sentenced to death. That’s the thanks
she could expect from the Consensus she’d be making a safer place.
If
she killed him now.
Which she couldn’t bring herself to do.
Instead she placed her faith in the programs and systems
intended to provide control over these new weapons.
She kept her thoughts from dwelling on the fact that control
of humans was always tenuous at best, and nearly ineffective if the subject
actively fought against it.
The human mind is a wonderful and mysterious thing,
she thought,
and fights vigorously against any form of external control.
She wanted to trust Dr. Baksa’s developments in the area and
tried unsuccessfully to put herself at ease. Sitting down, looking at the
shadowy shape in the vat, she finally decided that she needed a backup plan.
This man, especially after augmentation, would be too dangerous to trust to
tenuous control.
Another hour spent brainstorming, and she had an idea.
Another gamble, but one she felt much more comfortable trusting in.
I’ll construct a virus. It’s my expertise after all!
she
thought.
At least a long time ago, back in University.
Nothing difficult in making a new virus, actually, and she
had all the tools she needed here in the lab. The hard part would be to make
something lethal to the Augies, but not to “regular” people. This challenge she
attacked vigorously due to the small amount of time she had to make it work.
Much of the research could be done anywhere in the complex
and she made sure to move around so as not to attract too much attention. Of
course, anyone tracking her usage would probably be tipped off, but she was
forced to take her chances in this situation. She knew a few tricks from her
friend Ted Khasan. Joann truly hoped he was still safe, and she realized how much
she could use his help right now.
Once she completed the research, she needed time in the lab,
which was more difficult to disguise. She worked all night long after the
others had left, frantically creating, testing, and refining her ideas. Slowly,
painfully, she moved closer and closer to her goal.