by T. K. Toppin
“Good job.” Simon glanced about. “You did all this?”
Bodies, mostly human, were all over the place. A Junkie, still alive a few feet away, was propped up against a wall. Her chest heaved as life drained from her body. Nearby, the bottom-half of a security droid made hissing noises under the body of a man, its metallic limb flexing in spasms.
“I had help.” Minnows glanced at the dying Junkie. He always spoke quietly and with care, never rushed. “She won’t make it, but she helped. Her name is Petroski.” He hopped over the carnage to squat beside her. “I will stay here until she goes.”
“Minnows…” Simon didn’t finish.
Minnows knew what Simon would say, but he couldn’t leave Petroski. He owed her that much. Reaching for her hand, he held it; she squeezed back, the strength already leaving her. He squeezed tighter to let her know he was there for her.
Simon tagged Ox to inform him they were outside, who then informed Simon their scanners detected another wave of unfriendlies coming in—fast.
“Minnows,” Simon ordered with haste. “Grab the Junkie and let’s move it!”
The massive doors to the mainframe hissed and opened; Simon and Minnows flung themselves in. A second later, the doors slammed shut.
“What am I missing?” Ox bellowed. “Smells like a blood-fest!” But he grabbed Minnows and gave him a full inspection. Most of the blood on Minnows wasn’t his.
Simon glanced at Minnows, holding his stare for a moment before looking at the closed doors. Petroski had died. Simon patted Minnows’ shoulder roughly as he pushed past and strode up to Madds.
“Talk to me.”
“It’s like when we had the siege.” Madds replied with his thick Swedish accent as he hovered over a console. “They’re popping up all over the place. And some Junkies are among them.”
“What do you mean? Junkies are the good guys. They’ve crossed over?”
“I think they’ve been over a long time or, from what I’ve seen, were impostors to begin with,” Minnows said. “How else can all these mercs be popping up without detection?”
A serious-faced Junkie, Russell, spoke up. “Not all of us, sir. I think most of the newer recruits—they don’t train them like they used to, and many weren’t even born in space. Traitors!” he snorted. “I’ve also gotten reports that two unidentified shuttles have docked here within the last three weeks. They were listed as cargo shuttles for parts, but no one could confirm it. That’s how they must’ve gotten in.”
“Who’s in charge of docking?” Simon’s scowl grew in intensity.
“Each dock has its own, but the one in charge of everything is Becks. He’s missing at the moment.” Russell shook his head.
“How convenient.” Simon made a face. “What else?”
Madds pushed up from over the console. “They’ve taken over Production—it’s at a standstill. All the techs are under guard. Distribution as well. Not many casualties, main target seems to be security. I’ve also just gotten reports that the communal areas are under attack. They’ve managed to herd everyone into the dining halls. All docking bays except Dock 4 are locked off. We can assume that is where they’re coming in from.”
“So they have an external ship feeding in more men?”
“There’s nothing on the scanners to indicate that. But then, they could be manipulating our feed as well.”
A dull explosion came from beyond the doors. The room shook, tickling Minnows’ feet. He took a breath, ready.
“Ox,” Simon grabbed the large man’s shoulder. “Is there a way to override their command and shut down Dock 4? I’d prefer to eject it out, to be honest.”
“I’ve been trying, but it’s taking time,” Ox grunted. “They’re running a scrambler that’s making it very hard to pinpoint things.”
“Use your magic.” Simon turned to Madds. “Any news on Surrey? Did he make it?”
“No, nothing,” Madds replied.
“Sir,” Russell stepped forward again, his earnest gray eyes serious. “We can activate the latest batch of security droids from here. They’re offline and haven’t been programmed yet, but we could so do now.”
“How long will that take?”
“About fifteen minutes.” A scared technician came forward. “Thirty, for the full program. But we could eliminate all the congeniality prog—”
“Do it,” Simon snapped. “How many do you have?”
“Close to five thousand, sir. Already primed and ready for service, just need the commands to activate,” Russell replied. “But we’ll need the code sequence unlocked to do so. I understand it’s under lockdown right now?”
Simon nodded and ran a finger over his pocket. “That’ll do. I’ll handle the code sequence. But in the meantime, we’ve got a big problem at our door. Any suggestions?”
A second dull explosion rumbled from beyond the doors. It wasn’t looking too good from where Minnows stood. Another few blasts and the integrity of the doors would be questionable. By the looks of it, they still wanted in to the mainframe—badly.
* * *
“Josie,” Michael Ho shook his head with resignation. “You never fail to intrigue me. What could you possibly have hoped to achieve by running?” He spread his arms and turned in a slow, wide circle. “You have nowhere to go, you silly girl.”
“I needed to clear my head,” I shrugged. “I get claustrophobic. Running helps.”
Ho chuckled, happy about something. And if an army was outside trying to get in, it didn’t faze him. “I am so close,” he muttered.
I raised a brow. “Pardon? Didn’t quite catch that?”
Unable to contain himself, Ho beamed with a smile. “Everything is running smoothly, according to plan. The attack on the space station is right on schedule. It is unfortunate we couldn’t shut down the surveillance cameras here, but, no matter.” He winked at me. “Like your precious Citadel, there are too many fail-safes in place should anyone hack into the system. It is too much of a bother and too time-consuming. Any attack within Hontag-Sonnet is manageable and, should any outside interference come, then my men at the docking bays can take care of it. Timing is everything. And so far, everything is running just as I had planned.”
With impatience, Ho pointed to Aline and Dr. Maines. “Dr. Lancaster, would you be so kind and get a blood sample from Josie? Dr. Maines, as you are still with us, you can be of use. The samples, please prepare and arrange them in this order.” Ho handed him a small tablet with the directions on display. “And do not forget to bring the samples to body temperature, understood? Thank you.”
From somewhere far and distant, just audible through the thick doors, an alarm sounded. Ho cocked his head to the noise and a smile spread across his face.
“Give me your arm, Josie. Let’s do what he says.” Aline hefted the large pressure syringe that had been given to her. Our eyes locked. She lowered her voice so only I could hear. “Why did you run, other than obvious panic? And why did you let yourself get caught? What’s gotten into you? You could’ve stayed hidden and delayed things. I could’ve handled this lot.”
Aline’s doctor eyes took note of the change of my behavior. I was still scared but the panic had gone. Giving her a one-shoulder shrug, I didn’t answer but reluctantly offered my right arm. I bit back a curse as the needle shot through the skin and sucked out several fat inches of my blood. I stared, transfixed, as the bright red fluid filled the syringe. My blood. My blood, which also ran through the veins of Michael Ho. Sickening to think, but it also amazed me. I wondered again whose gene it was that caused madness. Was it part mine? Or was it from someone else? The way I felt, I would’ve sworn it was mine that spawned insanity. I pictured what it would feel like to kill Ho. To sink my krima into his pasty face, rip it apart…
He spoke again, chattering like an animated scientist, a mad scientist. His cool, self-assured composure was deteriorating fast. He sounded a little breathless as well.
“…you will place them into these vials—under
stood?” Ho instructed Dr. Maines, then beckoned Aline to stand next to him. “And you, you will insert them into this unit, in the exact order Dr. Maines gives them to you. Understood?”
Dr. Maines’ entire body trembled. Despite the chilly atmosphere, beads of sweat welled up along his brow and upper lip. His shaking hands caused the vials to clatter, earning him a stern look from Ho.
“I will input the data once its been scanned. Do not break the order, not even for a moment, or we have to start all over again.” Ho settled before a small computer, a thin roll out platform that projected a holographic image. He tapped instructions onto the digital keys appearing before him. “Lee, open network.”
Lee was at another unit like Ho’s, which now projected a screen between them with a 3-D ghost frame of a DNA strand. It rotated slowly like a barbershop signpost.
“Now, let us begin. On my mark.”
I couldn’t speak for Aline, but curiosity had me dismissing any plans for attack.
On Ho’s signal, Dr. Maines diligently prepared a sample. With care, he removed the frozen blood sample from its vacuum-sealed cylinder. Maines did so painstakingly slowly, since his hands shook and sweat dripped into his eyes. He blinked, a rapid flutter of lids, sometimes dashing the back of his hand across his brow. Once the blood sample was at the required body temperature, he extracted a small amount and put it into a vial, which he handed to Aline. She inserted it into a slot on a device that looked like a futuristic slide projector.
Ho’s computer hummed as it accepted the sample, processing and sorting it through. We all waited. The computer made a tiny ping, and a small portion of the holographic ghost strand projection filled up.
Ho laughed with pleasure, his eyes glittery with uncontained joy. “It is working,” he whispered. “Remove the first sample,” he barked, and pointed at the next sample to be prepared and inserted. He even snapped his fingers with impatience.
Slow as a snail, it went on. With each new sample, another portion of the ghost strand filled up. There were five in all; Brandon Sozanski’s was the first, followed by each of his three children, then his granddaughter. The last vial, the sixth, contained my blood. It would make up a large part of the remaining missing pieces, those of Dr. Zara Sozanski’s. And another small portion listed as a wild card gene.
According to Ho’s reckoning, my DNA, along with portions of Brandon Sozanski’s and his offsprings’, would be enough to work with since it was the closest match to that of Dr. Sozanski. Plus, he had an ample supply of my blood should things go wrong. Once my sample, mixed with the Sozanskis’, was applied, his computer program could then run a probability and create a dummy DNA, which could be cloned using more of my blood as a starter. But without the base samples as a guideline, those of Brandon and his offspring, it was useless. For the wild card DNA, Ho would have to run another probability scan and wait until the computer pieced it together. According to Ho, the wild card was only a miniscule portion of the code, though by physical appearances, it looked significant—almost two inches according to the projected image.
Ho didn’t seem too worried about getting it replicated because it was basically one gene. The computer could run a general probability, extracting what it needed by pretending to clone the required gene. Whatever the case, all I knew was that my blood was being used like it was a bottomless pit, and I’m pretty sure I would get lightheaded if any more was taken.
Aline, after a brief pause, inserted my sample into the machine. Ho waited, drumming his fingers, while the computer processed it, pulling out the strands it needed and working out how best to replicate the remaining gene traits needed. When the computer pinged and accepted it, none of us expected to see the majority of the missing pieces on the DNA strand fill up, leaving just a small portion blank—a very small portion.
Ho paused in mid-motion with a frown, staring at the projection. He tapped in some instructions on his console. Nothing changed. He slid his gaze to me for a moment but said nothing. I stared at the ghost strand, my brow rising slowly. Something weird tickled inside me. Lee turned to Ho for direction, confused. I glanced at Aline, who stood impassive, then to James behind me, who remained expressionless. What the fuck was going on? Was I the only one seeing something weird?
Aline made a noise in her throat, bringing Ho out of his thoughts.
“What did you do?” Ho demanded.
“Nothing.” Aline scratched her chin. “But it looks to me like this sample is a positive match for the majority of this key. I find this quite strange, considering…”
“What’re you saying?” I made a move forward but was stopped by James, who held my arm. “Why is mine taking up so much of the key? I thought you said it would only make up a small bit and the computer would have to generate the rest of it?”
Ho tapped at the console again, shaking his head.
“Aline?” My breath grew thin. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. But whoever this Dr. Zara Sozanski was, she seems to have obtained your DNA. How old did you say this key was?”
“About one-forty years or so.” I yanked my arm out of James’ grip and strode up to Ho. “Is that about right? A hundred and forty years?”
Ho nodded without registering how close I was to him, his mind preoccupied as if flitting through a multitude of possibilities. He engaged the program to fill in the blank mystery gene. It would take a moment, and then more time for Maines to replicate using the formula the computer calculated. Ho pushed back, his mouth moving as if calculating something.
Sensing danger, Lee stepped between us, blocking me from Ho.
“Talk to me, Ho,” I demanded. “How is this possible? How come you didn’t have to make a new blood sample like you said you had to? How come mine was accepted,” I snapped my fingers for effect, “just like that?”
“By a guess,” Ho said as the computer made another noise. It had created the dummy sample for the wild card far too quickly. He frowned and gave Dr. Maines the information he needed. “It would appear Dr. Sozanski obtained a sample of your blood. I do not know how, since at the time she created this, you were…unavailable. That is the best explanation.”
Aline put up her hand for attention. “Unless she had a sample from before. She may have been aware of your existence, Josie. She may have heard of you through her family. Maybe she sought out some remnants of you—or tracked you down—and used your DNA as the wild card to ensure no one but her could access the data she’d hidden. Then made it out that the other sample was the wild card to mislead people…when, actually, hers is the wild card, since her DNA was never taken or stored here, as these facilities didn’t exist then. Hiding keys in DNA strands was quite common in those days. By using yours, she had insurance.”
“It would be very slim—Josie’s remnants. Skin, hair…time would have degraded them quite a bit. But anything is possible.” Ho tapped his chin in thought, eyes trained on Dr. Maines, who fumbled with the cloned DNA sample. “And she would have heard about Josie through her family. People talked about it—not that anyone believed. That is how I have come to know of it. But I never suspected…”
“But she would have needed actual blood, not so?” Aline rounded on Ho. “Unless she cloned it from hair or skin samples. Artificial blood has been mainstream for almost two hundred years.”
“Mmm,” Ho muttered. “But that takes time and know-how. Actual blood is easiest.”
“She was a brilliant geneticist who specialized in cloning and fusion. She would have known what to do.” Aline pursed her lips, the scientist in her taking over.
I glanced from Aline to Ho. My mind swirled in confusion. Did this mean that people had known about me? That my family knew? And did nothing to wake me up? All those years…all those long, long years…
“No, impossible.” I shook my head. The intense stab of betrayal assaulted me like a burning hot poker. “Run it again.”
“I have. Nothing changes,” Ho hissed with impatience. “Hurry up, you clumsy fo
ol! How long does it take to clone a DNA strand?” Ho drummed his fingers on the table, further agitating Maines.
Running my hands through my hair, I held them there, squeezing hard, hoping the sharp pain would bring me out of the sudden icy, agonizing haze I was in. It didn’t.
Finally, the rattled Dr. Maines offered another vial. “T-This should do it.”
Aline, her face grim, took the vial and inserted it into the slot. The computer made a strained noise. Everyone’s eyes were glued to the projection. Waiting.
A few more minutes and it would be complete. Ho’s lifelong wish was but moments away; he gripped the side of the table with anticipation. The sight sickened me. For the time being, it appeared that the question of why my DNA was so prominent was of no consequence to him.
“Aline?” Helpless, I tore my gaze away from Ho and stared at her. “Can that happen? What you said, what he said? Can it?”
Aline nodded. “If the sample is good enough, yes. But Sozanski would have needed a blood sample, considering her instructions were so exacting. And, yes, she could’ve cloned it, like we are doing now. But she’d still have needed to get to you to obtain either of these things.”
“So…so…she would’ve had to…I mean. She found me, then? And just left me…”
I stood frozen, unable to think, dizzy. Aline moved closer and gripped my shoulders, muttering something soothing. I wasn’t listening.
The computer pinged, making us all jump. The program was complete. All the pieces were in place.
Ho pounced to Lee’s console and stared in fascination as the key, the full DNA strand, rotated and then dissolved into a multitude of tiny particles, turning the projected screen blank. The computer made another sound, and then the screen filled up with colors and opened up a channel—a long lost channel, buried for over a century on the cyberspace network.
