Wind Demon Triology: Book II: Evil Wind (23 page)

"But Jarl and Sejm did it anyway."

Kym put her hands to either side of his head and began rubbing his temples gently. “They saw a golden opportunity and waited very impatiently for the first of King Brell's daughters to become pregnant. As soon as it became apparent all but one of the sisters had been impregnated, Jarl and Sejm insisted on taking care of the women during their pregnancies."

"So they could implant parasite DNA in the embryos,” Cree whispered.

"That isn't what they did."

He twisted his head so he could look up at her. “They didn't genetically engineer us?"

"Not entirely."

A frown creased his forehead. “I thought..."

"They didn't need to do anything except implant a genetically altered parasite into each woman and let the parasite do their work for them."

A chill ran through Cree's body. “My dam and her sisters were given a parasite?"

"Aye, all except for Hael and since mother and child shared the same blood supply, the parasite migrated to the fetuses and began multiplying inside the offspring just as the original parasites began multiplying inside the mothers."

"Merciful Alel,” he said tonelessly. “It wasn't the curse that made me what I am. It was genetic engineering."

"When you and your blood cousins were born—your mothers turning into beasts as they delivered and the infants exhibiting the same beastliness—no one suspected there had been any kind of human experimentation done. People believed in the Morrígú curse. Everyone, that is, except Trae Onar. When he realized what must have happened, he went to the scientists, reminding Jarl about the military subjects that should have been used instead of weak, unimportant women and mewling infants. He demanded they use the newborns to create super warriors, the likes of which the megaverse had never seen.” She stroked his forehead. “It was, of course, necessary to make sure the women did not survive to tell what had been done to them."

"Hael told me my sire killed my dam when I was born,” Cree said. “She said he thought she was trying to devour me."

"Like any such animal, she was merely trying to clean away the birth debris,” she said. “As soon as each of your aunts Transitioned, they were eliminated by the men who owned them."

"They were murdered by those men,” Cree snapped, his jaw tight.

"Jarl and Sejm could not take a chance the truth would come out and they would be imprisoned for what they'd done."

"Do you really think they would have been?” he asked bitterly.

"It's doubtful considering they now had at their disposal seven potential mega-warriors,” she answered.

"Sons of bitches,” Cree said. “To have done that to pregnant women...."

"I know you may not want to do this, but please read at least a portion of the disklette that pertains to you. There are some things in there you should know, Kamerone,” she told him.

"Why don't you just tell me and save me the trouble?” he grated.

"Because I have no desire to cause you hurt, dearling,” she said then leaned down to kiss the top of his head. She removed her hands from his shoulders, letting her palms slide over the hard muscles, and then left the room.

It took him another fifteen minutes before he could force himself pluck the disklette with his name on it from the box and insert it in its drive slot. His headache was an ungodly torment pounding in his temples and he was becoming sick to his stomach, hot bile rising in his esophagus to scald him. His palms were slick with sweat and he ran them up and down his thighs as he stared at his name: Kamerone Cree, ES #1.

"Experimental subject?” he questioned the letters and decided that had to be what the ES meant.

With his hand trembling, he used the mouse to open the first page, not surprised to see a continuation of Jarl's journal.

Male subject was born on Samhain, a time traditionally when the thin veil between the worlds has been drawn aside and the dead walk the land, when the Grim Reaper strolls his domain and seeks out the living. The day of the week was Wednesday, the year known among the Chaleans as the Year of the Hound at 2353, his birth tree the reed. All these were symbols that led the Magi to decide the infant boy was tainted with bad luck. A child born on that day of the week is said to be full of woe and at that time of day—the numbers totaling thirteen—is as unlucky a birth date as can be. When the runes were thrown these characteristics were revealed by the shaman: The boy would be a complex individual, tenacious and fearless, proud and independent, with great strength but very stubborn. His will would need to be broken before he could be trained but he would be a warrior among warriors, a prime example of maleness.

In discussing ES#1, Sejm and I decided he should be placed away from all human contact and with only specially trained cybots to care for his needs until such time as he had reached an age where he could begin modification indoctrination. We set that age at five years. Note: proved to be a bit early and we have since changed that age to seven years.

Cree's earliest memories had been of the faceless, emotionless artificial intelligence units—the A.I.U.s—who had rolled soundlessly about the area in which he lived. The cybots were incapable of speech so there had been no gentle words to lull him to sleep or to calm him when nightmares came. There had been no lullabies to ease him into slumber. Neither had there been soft, warm, safe arms to hold him. He was fed lying on his back in the incubator until he was old enough to sit in a highchair. Punishment for crying had been swift and painful and he had learned early on not to give in to childish vents of emotion. He had learned to speak listening to an impersonal, disembodied voice coming over the vid-com speakers in a Ry-Chalean brogue. He had learned to walk holding on to the bars stationed about the room. There had been no encouraging arms held out to him and no soothing hand to ease his falls. For the first five years of his life, he wore no clothing for there was a constant barrage of tests being run upon his bruised body by the cold, hard hands of the cybots.

He was looking at a picture of him as an infant and he was stunned to see how much Jaelin resembled him. Except for his own amber eyes and Jaelin's dark green, he could have been looking at his son. But Jaelin's eyes had held laughter, love, and trust within those verdant orbs. ES#1's eyes were dull, lifeless, and full of pain, devoid of light, and rife with distrust.

At age five, ES#1 was turned over to the Ministry of Science for tests to determine his intelligence and coordination. It was determined he was suitable to begin training as the warrior he would one day become.

There were a long list of notations of tests that had been run on ES#1 and the results of those tests. The more Cree read, the worse his headache became until he was sick to his stomach from reading the details of the torture of the child he had been.

Willful display of temper resulted in application of prolonged neuro-shock. Continued resistance was met with placement in complete immobility restraint. Subject finds such punishment particularly unpleasant.

He remembered all too well being strapped down to a frigidly cold sheet of stainless steel, unable to move even his eyes for some sort of drug had been administered that brought not only paralysis but a terrible itching over every inch of his body. The punishment had been more than unpleasant. It had been excruciating.

O
nce more insists on ignoring orders. IR instituted for a period of three days.

"Three days of hell,” Cree said softly and tears formed in his eyes. The IR or immobility restraint had nearly driven him insane.

ES#1 is now old enough to be remanded to the Ministry of Behavioral Modification. Micro-receivers will be implanted at the beginning of the week and work with him will begin. Sejm has given our new warrior a designation. He will be known as a Reaper and since he was our first, a Prime Reaper. He and the other six warriors will be given a mark to designate them as Reapers before Transference.

We were concerned the laser application would heal spontaneously as does all injury to the flesh of ES#1. However, that was not the case. Cean believes the parasite liked the idea of the special mark to set ES#1 apart and allowed it to remain on the Reaper's flesh. Subsequent meaningless and random laser applications on different parts of the subject's body have proven Cean's supposition to be correct.

He had been six years old when they had strapped him down and applied the laser tattoo of the scythe to his young flesh. Mentally, he had screamed with the pain but physically he had not even batted an eye, knowing full well the penalty for showing such a weakness. He remembered all too well the other applications of the burning wand on his flesh and to know it had been done simply to test his ability to heal made his rage soar.

There must be no exhibition of emotion when the other Reapers are introduced to ES#1. He must feel superiority over them, detest the very sight of them. He must embrace the warrior within him no matter what it takes to assure that cooperation.

A picture of him in the first clothing he'd ever been allowed to wear stood side by side with a close up of the stylized scythe that had turned the flesh around it crimson. Cree stared into the cold, disassociated eyes of that young boy in the black uniform and could go no further. He recalled every brutal test that had been ran on him in the BeMod. His body held memories of every pain visited upon it. He remembered seeing his cousins for the first time and hating them savagely, as he'd been taught to do. He ejected the disklette from Kym's computer and sat back in the chair, tears running down his cheeks, his head a pounding crush of pain. He did not move when he felt Kym's hands on his temples once more.

"How far did you get?” she asked him softly.

"My cousins,” was all he could reply. Even the sound of his voice caused him exacting pain.

Kym trailed her fingers down the right side of his neck until she found the throbbing vein that was causing him so much agony. He didn't even blink when she administered an extra dose of Triso to ease his pain.

"Had you read on,” she said, pocketing the vac-syringe and placing her fingers on his temples once more, “you would have discovered just how manipulative the BeMod had been."

"I remember the pain,” he said, allowing her to brace his head against her belly.

"Do you remember the Transferences?"

He shook his head and wished he hadn't for it increased the pain. “We'll go into that later, then."

"What were you going to say about the BeMod unit?” he asked.

"Each of you was assigned a handler whose job it was to indoctrinate you even in your sleep,” she told him. “They were to keep you awake as long as possible each night for Sejm decided it would temper your invincibility. Why he thought that is anyone's guess. Personally, I believe he did it to torment his subjects. Having the handlers wake the boys up all during the night was cruel and it developed a pattern of sleep that would stay with you for the rest of your lives."

"You got that right,” Cree admitted.

"The indoctrination took many forms,” Kym said. She put her palm on his forehead, making him close his eyes. “It wasn't just military strategy they were instilling in you. It was also phobias and misinformation designed to strengthen you in ways Sejm thought would make you the mega-warrior he envisioned."

"Phobias?” Cree questioned.

"Before I answer that, I want you to come with me. There is something else you need to see,” Kym responded. She stepped back so he could swing the chair around and get up from the desk.

"What are we going?"

"Into two more rooms."

He shook his head. “I've no desire to read any more, LeJong,” he said.

"You won't be reading.” She reached down and took his hand to draw him to another paneled wall. She touched a section of the wall and it opened, the hidden door swinging inward. She pulled him into the room with her.

Cree had never liked closed in places and the little room's size disturbed him. There was barely enough room for he and Kym to enter. His mouth was tight, his jaw set. Before he could question her, she reached out and touched the back of the wall—at some point near the base molding—and the entire section of wall slid soundlessly to one side, revealing a pitch dark area beyond.

"I found this room and almost had its contents destroyed,” Kym said, “until I realized I might one day have a need for what is stored here.” She turned on a light and Cree realized there were two doors standing side by side. Kym opened the one on the left then reached inside to turn on the light.

There were shelves along two sides of the room and a refrigerated section on the third. Row after row of purple vials housed in wire baskets lined the shelves.

"Triso?” he asked in awe.

"Enough to last you and your bloodkin through eternity,” she replied and pointed at the refrigeration unit. “And more than enough plastiform bags of frozen Sustenance to see you to Terra. I'm sending the coordinates to this room to Kahmal so she can harvest the Triso and Sustenance right after she takes you and your bloodkin up into the
Alluvia
."

Cree slowly turned his head to her. “That's going to be some quick action to get all that done before we get the hell off this planet,” he said.

"You don't know the half of it, dearling,” she said, motioning him out of the room. She shut the door and turned to the other one. “Hael knew about this one but never went into the one we were just in,” she said. “I've no idea how many she told about what you're going to see. I do know at least two of the Council are aware of its existence.” She tapped in a code on the box beside the door. “When Hael showed me what the room beyond contained, I nearly shit my underdrawers."

The Reaper couldn't keep the smile from pulling at his lips. He could not imagine anything less likely happening with this petite, so-in-control lady. He blinked when she threw a switch and bright light reflected against a set of titanium doors.

"I don't believe Jarl and Sejm intended for this to ever be found and I wish to the goddess Hael had never discovered it.” She went to a keypad positioned to one side of the double doors and typed in the word Ruesello.