by Steve Cole
Then that same breath pushed out in a gasp as huge chains clanked and scraped in the darkness beyond the doors, and the boom of giant footsteps slammed out a frightening rhythm.
The next moment, Zed appeared in the doorway, black eyes wild. His chops foamed with bloody froth that spilled down onto the massive metal collar clamped about his neck. The chain was at full reach, stopping him from entering the control room. He roared in frustration, an earsplitting crack of primeval thunder.
“Zed!” Adam shouted. “Zed, it’s me, Adam! What have they done to you?”
Josephs shook her head. “This isn’t your unstable friend.”
Adam glanced up at the TV screen, his heart banging at the back of his throat. Zed was still lying in his pen, half hidden by gas.
“Say hello to Zed’s clone, Adam.” Hayden gazed up at the ravening monster with shining eyes. “Say hello to the Y. rex.”
21
OPPORTUNITIES
His clone? Like a twin?” Adam looked again between the drooling monstrosity before him and the identical dinosaur on the TV screen. “Then it was this thing that trashed the castle.”
Mr. Adlar nodded. “The Y. rex was rapid-grown from Zed’s regenerated cells.”
“While Josephs and your dad salvaged what development work they could in New Mexico, I was leading the work on this project, here in Edinburgh.” Hayden smiled, as the giant beast gibbered and gnashed his terrifying teeth. “I call him my Y. rex, because he’s as close to his zenith as I will let him get. Much more of a Yes-dinosaur—uncontaminated by messy character traits.”
As Adam looked into the Y. rex’s blank, dark eyes, he knew in an instant that this was the monster he’d seen killing the horses in the field. Zed must have been lying ill back at the warehouse the whole time.
“Why?” His voice caught in his throat as he stared at Hayden. “Why did you make this thing destroy the castle?”
“Taking down a six-ton killer is likely to draw attention,” said Josephs wryly, “unless something even bigger is happening on the other side of town.”
Adam stared between her and Hayden in disbelief. “You had your pet monster destroy Edinburgh Castle as a diversion?”
“The chaos kept the emergency services fully focused on the Royal Mile,” Josephs went on calmly. “Plus, the general clamor—and the presence of so many helicopters in the area—made it easier for our forces to approach the warehouse without alerting the Z. rex.”
“You sound like you’re reading the news or something!” Adam exploded. “How can you think you’ve got the right to pull something like this?”
“We know we’ve got the right,” Josephs told him, her eyes dark and wide. “Superior power and vision give us the right.”
“It was a very useful exercise,” Hayden agreed, turning to Mr. Adlar. “Calm the Y. rex down, Bill. Now.”
Mr. Adlar placed a slim metal keyboard beside the Think-Send headset and started typing. “This is why they need me,” he explained to Adam. “The Z. rex has freedom of thought; he can respond to voice commands in any language, and access the data placed in his head whenever he needs to. But the mind of the Y. rex has been butchered—slaved to a series of computer implants. It doesn’t understand human speech, only computer code uploaded using Think-Send.”
Adam frowned. “You’re going to fit that thing with the headset?”
“The Y. rex doesn’t need to wear it,” Josephs put in. “We’re not taking the chance of your brain waves influencing it, as they did with Zed. So the headset connects to the computer first to filter out any trace of your personality.”
“Then the computer sends the data directly to a receiver in Y’s brain,” Mr. Adlar concluded. He hit a button and a red LED glowed into life on the headset.
It’s like you’re controlling a character in a game, Adam realized, watching as the Y. rex started to raise and lower its arms and move its head from side to side in a grotesque parody of a dance. The repeated actions seemed to be soothing its wildness away. First one dinosaur, now two. . . . As he swung around to face Hayden, Adam felt as though he were losing his mind. “Why are you doing all this?” he asked helplessly. “Why dinosaurs? I mean, I know you’re an expert on them, but—”
“Recreating and enhancing the most dangerous predator ever to roam the planet . . . that’s a little splashier than cloning a sheep, wouldn’t you say?” Hayden smiled. “Intelligence, imagination and sheer, unstoppable power, all in one package. When Y. rex and his army of brothers stand revealed, they will send a message to the world that Geneflow is not an organization to be trifled with.”
“Army?” Adam echoed, splinters of ice prickling down his spine.
“Once the Y. rex is perfected, it’ll be the template for hundreds of others,” Josephs informed him. “Highly capable, precision-controlled, invisible agents of terror that we shall use to help achieve our ends.”
Adam’s blood was turning to liquid nitrogen in his veins. “No wonder Zed was able to work explosives and fly anywhere in the world.”
Hayden smiled. “And such creations are simply a first step.”
“A first step toward what?” said Mr. Adlar, turning from his computer screen now that the Y. rex had grown placid. “You and Sam keep hinting at experiments on other prehistoric creatures.”
“What?” Adam felt his guts churn. “They’re making other dinosaurs too?”
“Of course,” said Josephs, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “The techniques perfected in hyper-evolving the Z. rex can be applied to many other species, once viable DNA has been found.”
Hayden nodded. “And each will play its part in Geneflow’s grand design.”
Mr. Adlar raised his eyebrows. “Which is?”
“What d’you think this is, Bill—Scooby-Doo?” Hayden smiled without humor. “Why should I reveal all our plans to a meddling kid and his stalling father?”
Adam’s dad stood up angrily. “I have a right to know how my work is going to be used!”
Josephs raised her voice too. “If you had one iota of vision, you’d have grasped the possibilities long ago.”
“Exactly.” Hayden stared at Mr. Adlar. “Do you seriously think I’m going to stop at reimagining dinosaurs, Bill? Think of all the potential we have as a species. Potential we’re never going to reach because we’re too busy destroying the planet. Destroying ourselves.”
Mr. Adlar met his gaze grimly. “You have an alternative?”
“By comparing the cells of an ancient T. rex with those of its closest living relatives today, we understand the ways in which genes develop over millions of years. And if we apply that understanding to human cells and evolution—”
“Dad?” Adam chewed his dry lip. “What is he talking about?”
Mr. Adlar let out a heavy breath. “He wants to play God.”
“Science is the new god, Bill,” Hayden said softly. “Science is the creator now.” He walked over to join Josephs at her workstation. “But the details don’t concern you. All that’s for the future.”
“There’s still a long way to go till your perfect Y. rex prototype is ready, Jeff.” Mr. Adlar didn’t try to keep the satisfaction from his voice as he turned back to Adam. “Its savage nature means it constantly fights against the programming. It’s abandoned several training missions partway through to go AWOL around Edinburgh—hunting animals, even attacking people—”
“We’re regaining control over it faster each time,” Josephs protested.
“And I’m sure you’ll solve the problems completely now that your son is here, Bill,” said Hayden. “If you don’t, Mr. Bateman will just have to hurt him very badly.”
Bateman nodded impassively. “Anytime you say, Mr. Hayden.”
Mr. Adlar looked helplessly at Adam. Adam turned away, unable to meet his stare. And I thought I was scared before. He felt for the tranquilizer dart in his pocket, tempted simply to jab it into his thigh, put himself to sleep and hope he stayed that way for a long
, long time. He’d got caught, so now his dad would have no choice but to help these maniacs. He looked up at Zed on the screen, still lying prone in the fog-wreathed room. If there was only some way he could be freed. . . .
“Open Y’s mouth, Bill,” said Hayden. “We lost contact toward the end of his spree. Let’s see how much of his payload he deployed.”
Mr. Adlar tapped on the keyboard. The Y. rex jerked into life, reached into its mouth and pulled out—
“A bomb,” Adam breathed; it looked just like the one back at Fort Ponil.
“The Zenithsaurus was designed with special pouches in the lining of its mouth,” said Josephs proudly. “So it can store tools and equipment inside for sabotage missions.”
“But it planted only three of the bombs at the castle before the programming slipped.” Hayden resumed his pacing. “I thought a programmable beast with no imagination would prove more reliable than one that could think for itself. But Adam’s experiences with the Z. rex suggest an ability to improvise that could serve it well on terror missions.” He nodded thoughtfully. “You know, I think it’s time for a face-off.”
Adam frowned. “A what?”
Hayden turned calmly to Josephs. “Sam, would you arrange for the Z. rex to be disconnected from the sensors, given a stimulant shot and transported to the Ring, please?”
Without hesitation, she picked up the phone on her desk and started giving instructions to whoever was on the other end.
“Dad?” Adam said.
“The Ring is a giant cavern where the Y. rex is trained and exercised,” Mr. Adlar explained, his attention fixed on Hayden. “Jeff, you can’t be serious about letting Zed and Y clash in there. They could kill each other.”
Hayden shook his head. “If there’s no clear victor, we’ll simply flood the Ring with tranq gas. That’ll finish the fight.”
Adam shuddered, as visions of the Y. rex hunting the horses flashed into his mind. “But you can’t make Zed fight that thing!”
“I’m betting I can make him do anything,” said Hayden, “just by threatening your life.”
“No,” Mr. Adlar protested. “I’m doing as you ask, what more do you—”
“You heard Samantha, Bill. The Z. rex cares about Adam. That’s one lovable kid you got there.” Hayden’s voice hardened. “I told you—what science can’t control, it can still exploit. Those two creatures are exactly matched physically. Only their minds are different.” He smiled at Josephs. “Here we have the perfect opportunity to study the pros and cons of free will versus expert control . . . and whatever the outcome, whoever has to die—we’re going to take it.”
22
BATTLEGROUND
Adam sat slumped in his chair, his wrists throbbing from the chafing handcuffs, all but forgotten by everyone as the preparations for the battle between Y and Zed intensified.
Sam Josephs worked quietly and calmly at her workstation, apparently unbothered by being so close to the huge metal doors and the Y. rex framed between them like a scaly statue. Her movements at her computer were so precise that she could’ve been under remote control herself.
Adam looked at his haggard father, poring over the command translator log. Now and again, Josephs would come over to confer about something.
This is all my fault, Zed, Adam thought miserably. I got myself caught. I got you caught. And I’m so, so sorry.
All four of the big screens on the wall were switched on now. One showed the empty pen while the others showed a fierce swarm of static. What sights would soon be cutting across the glass?
There was a squawk from Bateman’s radio. “The monster’s parked up outside Ring West Entrance. We’re ready for loading.”
“About time,” Bateman drawled, and glanced across at Josephs. “Sammy baby, your big scaly Z-failure is good to go, west side. You want to let it in?”
Josephs didn’t reply, but walked calmly to the bank of controls beside the Y. rex. Hayden had already worked the door to its pen from here, and now she touched another button in the same row—presumably opening the west entrance to the Ring.
“Loading now,” came the voice on the radio.
Just then, Hayden breezed into the lab, waving a big bag of cookies and a steaming jug of black, bitter-smelling coffee. “Gingersnap, anyone?” he called, flipping one over to Bateman, who caught it one-handed. He offered another to Josephs, who shook her head. “That’s good, I’ve got to make them last. They come from that shop near the castle, and I do believe there’s a bit of a flap on out there.” Bateman chuckled, and Josephs smiled wanly. Adam and his dad swapped anxious looks. “Who’s for fresh coffee? I want everyone awake for this.”
“Y’s been primed with over a hundred attack strategies as well as sixty defensive maneuvers,” Josephs announced.
“Excellent.” Hayden poured Mr. Adlar a scalding hot cup of black coffee. “Doesn’t this beat animating hollow video game characters, Bill?”
Adam’s dad took his coffee without a word.
“Just remember, if it takes too long to select one of your programmed attack strategies at any point in the contest, you choose for it,” Hayden instructed. He crossed to stand beside Adam, who was slumped in his chair. “And make sure you keep the Y. rex’s stress levels in check, Bill. It’s no kind of test if Y beats Z by shrugging off our control and going beserk. If you let that happen”—Hayden let some boiling hot coffee spill on the back of Adam’s cuffed hand. Adam gasped with pain.
“All right,” Mr. Adlar said angrily, hitting buttons on the adapted Think-Send headset. “Point taken.” He turned his attention to the screen.
Fuming and frightened, Adam tried to shake off the burning liquid, wiped his hand on his jacket—and again, his fingers brushed against the dart in his pocket, felt the sharp tip through the thick cotton. There has to be something I can do. . . .
“Sam,” said Hayden brightly, “is Y good to go?”
“He’s good.” She nodded to Adam’s dad, who pressed a couple of function keys on the steel keyboard.
“Restraint collar removed,” Josephs reported.
At once, the Y. rex jerked into life, turned and stamped away from mission control, vanishing from sight down a rocky tunnel. Adam saw that a small window on his dad’s monitor was showing a hazy, lurching view of the tunnel. Think-Send is letting Dad see through Y’s eyes, he marveled. So he can help it choose what to do.
Josephs got up, flicked a switch on her console and the heavy metal doors to its pen ground slowly shut. “Y is on its way to the Ring.”
Bateman smirked. “Going off to war like a good soldier.”
“I’ll be monitoring its vital signs and body chemistry at all times,” Josephs went on. “If it looks like it’s shaking off control . . .”
“Bill will get straight on the case,” Hayden concluded. “That is, if he knows what’s good for his son.”
Adam’s dad tensed his shoulders, but did not turn around.
“Now, I want everything recorded,” Hayden announced. “Mr. Bateman, you’re in charge of audiovisual.”
“Got it.” Bateman nodded, crossed to a kind of mixing desk on the table behind Josephs and started hitting buttons.
The large monitors on the wall flickered. Then Adam found himself staring up at the image of a rocky cavern spread across all four screens, lit up with dramatic spotlights like some cheesy tourist attraction. The Ring, he thought. It was a massive space. In the center, a large, familiar figure lay sprawled on the ground.
Zed.
Hayden swigged his coffee. “Check cameras, Mr. Bateman.”
Bateman flicked switches. The image on the screens changed, still showing the Ring but flitting between different angles—from above, from the side, from every possible perspective. Adam saw two large doors on either side of the Ring—the west access point that Zed must have come through, and one other to the east.
“All cameras functioning,” Bateman announced, index finger riding a fader. “Zooming in.”
On
e camera crash-zoomed in on Zed’s slumped form. Even in sleep, the scaly face was set in a savage sneer. Adam felt his pounding heart inch slowly up his throat.
“Send the Y. rex into the antechamber,” said Hayden, crossing to join Bateman beside the mixing desk. “Time to test the radio link, I think. . . .” He leaned closer to a small built-in microphone. “Testing. Z. rex, do you hear me in there?” The words echoed from the vast plasma screens a second or so after he spoke. “I repeat: Z. rex, do you hear me?”
The dinosaur’s dark beady eyes flickered open. “Zed hear.”
“Are you all right, Zed?” Adam couldn’t help himself. “It’s me!”
“There’s no need to shout.” Hayden nodded to Bateman, who fetched Adam and dragged him closer to the microphone. “We want the Z. rex to know we’ve got you.”
“He knows,” Bateman murmured. On the screens, Zed clamored heavily to his feet and started looking about anxiously. He shifted from foot to foot. “Ad . . . am?” he grunted. “Where?”
Hayden took a swig of coffee and smacked his lips. “Hit the doors.”
Josephs flicked another switch on the console that stood beside Y’s holding pen. Then she hurried back to her workstation. A distant rumble carried through the rock floor as the Ring’s East Access doors began to open.
Adam stared helplessly as white brightness from beyond spilled into the Ring. He saw Zed slowly straighten as the shadow of his opponent fell over him, eating away the light.
The Y. rex’s roar bellowed from the monitors, distorting every speaker. At the audiovisual rig, Bateman nudged down the volume.
Zed reacted to the vast figure as it stamped into the Ring. “Zed,” he growled, bewildered. “Me.”
He was cut off by a vicious howl and the hissing swipe of claws. There was a scuffle of heavy footfalls.
Zed roared in return, a deep, bestial sound of anger. Or maybe fear. Adam realized Zed would wonder at the sight of his twin, try to reason out what was happening. His clone, on the other hand, would simply see an enemy to be killed.
