by JC Ryan
“This is a human cervical axis, but it has been turned about forty-five degrees and fused with the bull’s skull. If the facial bones had not been left intact inside the bull’s larger facial bones, we would have had a different conclusion. But, although we don’t have the soft tissues to prove it, we believe this was somehow done to a living human being. Whoever did this essentially grafted a bull’s head on the poor soul.”
Carter slammed one fist into the palm of the other hand. “I knew it!” He raised his stinging palm to meet Sean’s high five.
Mackenzie was horrified, but her scientific curiosity won over her distaste for the mental image. “Why do you think the human was living?”
“Because,” the doctor answered, “the bone has completely knit. The creature lived at least for some time in this condition. Don’t ask me how. I can’t imagine how it could operate the bovine jaw to open and shut it to eat, for example. That would have required neurosurgery on a level we can only imagine now.”
Carter had settled down, the horror of the situation catching up with his excitement over the find. “So, you’re saying this thing is not a hoax. The monster they created actually lived.”
“For a time, yes. There’s no way to tell how long, precisely. And we can’t explain how. I believe it would have been quite insane, though. Imagine waking from anesthesia to learn most of your skull had been removed and your face, your whole head, being replaced by that of a bull’s skeleton.”
“Could it have been more than the skeleton? Could the skin, hair, and tongue have been intact?” Sean asked.
“After what we’ve seen, I won’t ever doubt anything again. I suppose it could have been,” the doctor answered.
“Like the images of the Minotaur of Crete?” Carter asked.
“Why, yes, I suppose it would have looked like that.”
The veterinarian spoke slowly. “I remember learning about that when I was in school. Elective class,” he added, embarrassed. “That thing was supposed to have torn people apart and eaten them.”
“Which an insane creature might be forgiven for doing,” Mackenzie offered.
Carter looked at the skeleton in awe. “We found… correction, Bashar found the true Minotaur!”
Mackenzie looked at him, distressed. “You aren’t going to publish that, are you?”
“No, I don’t think I can. And I don’t think I can excavate to learn how it got from the Labyrinth in the Knossos Palace into that cave system, either. I’d have to explain how we got to the place where Bashar found this thing, and that’s a secret. And I can’t claim the discovery as mine, but I don’t want to credit him, either. I think I’m going to have to put this back where I found it and forget we ever saw it.”
47
Seven months later
MACKENZIE COULDN’T DECIDE whether spring was trying to come early, or winter was hanging on late. She always had trouble adjusting to Quebec’s seasons, as it was colder here in March than it was back home in Boston. A chill rain was falling, so she took an electric cart to the lab rather than walk and arrive soaked. It looked like they might even get snow, as the forecast called for temperatures to drop later in the day.
Today was the conclusion of a six-month study of half a dozen human subjects who’d received the respirocyte generators, three men and three women of various ages. The last experiment to be conducted with them was to be a run on the same obstacle course at Tala Camp where she’d observed Carter and Sean not long after they’d received their nanobots. She didn’t envy the subjects the run on a day like today.
In fact, though, she’d be observing the run. As miserable as the weather was, she felt it was her duty to suffer along with them. Carter and Sean were going to be running it as well, and she wanted to see if their times had improved. Once the run was complete, she would finish writing up the study for DARPA, and then she’d have some time off before her sponsors decided what to do with the results.
In the beginning, she’d felt she’d possibly made a deal with the Devil. A peaceful person by nature, she was concerned about the potential for keeping the research for military purposes, though she was fine with it saving the lives of young soldiers on the battlefield. But in the months since her children had been kidnapped, she’d come to terms with the idea that national security would dictate the uses. If Carter and Sean hadn’t had the advantage of respirocytes, the children would probably be dead by now, and with them, her heart.
She still hoped DARPA would agree to release the technology for medical purposes, however. It was why she’d begun the research in the first place. And although she was grateful for the funding, the truth was she could have done it, though perhaps more slowly, without that. Nevertheless, what was done was done. She supposed her melancholy came from the dreary weather and the approaching end of the project.
They’d done it. They’d perfected the manufacture of the nanobots as well as the ideal method of injecting them. No more unfortunate incidents with straying ‘bots had occurred, and she was confident of the durability of the mesh cages they’d devised now. Both rat subjects and human subjects were thriving, with no sign of antisocial behavior to mar the results. Mackenzie felt the project was an unqualified success.
Furthermore, the early predictions of a doubled lifetime seemed to have been premature. It was true the rats were rejuvenated, but older rats injected with the generators lived only an extra few months, not double their ordinary lifetimes. Humans exhibited a relative rejuvenation as well. Carter said he felt ten years younger. Based on his grandfather’s life, since his parents had died in an accident rather than old age, she thought Carter might live to be one-hundred and fifteen or twenty. Perhaps, if it seemed warranted, she would get an injection as well. But that was for later. Her genetics would give her a long lifespan on their own, and she was too young to worry about it now.
Her ruminations took a back seat in her mind as she arrived at the lab and convened the staff meeting. Today’s was a special one. Normally, the weekly meeting took place on Mondays. She’d receive reports from each department, and the week’s work would be laid out. Today was Thursday. After the run, only the doctor would remain at the lab through tomorrow to complete the statistical reports on the last obstacle course run. Everyone else was taking an extended vacation after their long, intense project had ended. Some would return for the next phase, and others had accepted contracts elsewhere, their part complete. The three engineers anticipated being hired on directly at DARPA to handle development of the manufacturing facility for the military’s supply of respirocyte generators. Mackenzie would miss those who weren’t returning, and she said so.
They’d considered a farewell party for the previous weekend, but then the week would have been an anticlimax. And a couple of the scientists wanted the three days because they were to report for duty at their new jobs on the following Monday. So, instead of a party, Mackenzie and Carter had invited them all to dinner the night before. This was the last time she’d see three of them, who would be leaving before the obstacle course run was finished later that afternoon.
“What’s next for you, Mackenzie?” someone asked.
“A lot depends on what DARPA wants,” she answered. “We haven’t yet tested the limits of how many generators humans can tolerate, and before we can even start on that, we have to work up to it with chimps. But we all know the wheels of government grind slowly. Carter is between assignments, so he’s been making noises about buying a boat and sailing around the world with the kids.”
“A yacht,” Carter corrected from the doorway.
Mackenzie looked up in surprise. “Carter! What are you doing here?”
“Just wanted to say one last thank you to your team for their work. Without it…” he stopped. Everyone knew what would have happened without it. “Anyway, I wanted you all to have a token of our appreciation.” He stepped forward with envelopes and began to pass them out. The first person to open his was the vet, whose eyes widened in amazement.
/> “Th-th-this is too much,” he stammered. He was looking at a cashier’s check for ten-thousand US dollars.
“On the contrary, it isn’t enough,” Carter said. “It’s just a small bonus for a job well done.”
Sean’s voice now sounded from the doorway. “Say thank you and shut up,” he advised in a droll tone. The resulting laughter broke up the consternation in the room, and everyone chorused “Thank you!”
“You’re welcome. You know Mackenzie and I are grateful for the work you did giving me the ability to rescue our children. And Sean thanks you…”
“For my awesome new lease on life,” Sean interrupted. “I was getting old and decrepit, and…”
He couldn’t finish because the room erupted in laughter.
“Well, on that note,” Mackenzie said, trying to control her own mirth, “I guess we’re dismissed. You guys have a wonderful life. And keep us in mind when you’re ready for a vacation, or to come back and work with me. You’re all welcome back at any time. And those who are returning, I’ll be in touch with a date.”’
The scientists filed out the door, shaking hands with Carter and Sean and hugging Mackenzie as they left. The clinician hung back, since she wasn’t leaving until after tomorrow. The vet was the last to leave otherwise. He stopped and thanked Mackenzie for inviting him to come back early, in just a couple of weeks, to work on the wolf study he wanted to do.
“I’ll see you then,” she said.
When everyone else had gone, the doctor stepped forward. “I’ll see you at Camp Tala,” she said to Mackenzie. To the men, she said, “Don’t eat too large a lunch.” She grinned and left.
48
EVERYONE ON FREYDIS except for the translators, who were not involved in any way, turned out for the afternoon’s entertainment. They’d set the test for two p.m., which should have been the warmest part of the day. Today, though, the high temperature had come at around eleven in the morning, and it was now dropping rapidly. The schoolchildren were bundled in snow apparel up to their eyes, and they bunched up for mutual warmth. Mackenzie, her parents, Ahote and Bly as special guests, and the doctor stood in a group. Mackenzie and the doctor were both holding timepieces and electronic notepads in gloved hands. If it hadn’t been for the test being scheduled months ago, Mackenzie would have suggested they postpone it.
First to run were the Tala trainees. Ever since Carter and Sean had bested them on the first obstacle course run, they’d served as a control group. Some had improved their time, but most had already been at their peak conditioning back then. Each person’s times was recorded carefully over the past six months, when the human trials of the respirocyte generators began, along with their weight, age, various measurements of body size, and other physiologically relevant data.
The trainees all wore Gortex skiwear – light, thin, and supple, but water and windproof. The weight of their clothing had been carefully recorded also. At the starting gun, they raced toward the first wall and scrambled over, as they’d done every time Mackenzie had watched this ritual. Their times were perhaps a few seconds faster. Mackenzie attributed it to their desire to get through and get on something warmer than the Gortex.
Next were the three women from the experimental group. They ranged in age from twenty-four to forty-seven, with a thirty-something in the middle. All had been in good condition, typical for their ages, when they volunteered for the study. All were military but had desk jobs when they volunteered. And all had told Mackenzie that they were motivated to volunteer because they had experienced gender-discrimination in their military careers – some subtle, some not so subtle. They wanted to be able to compete with the men in their units with no gender-based accommodations. Mackenzie knew they probably had good cause, although she thought progress had been made in the past few years.
When they’d run the course the first time, all three women had made it through, but their times were worse than the Tala trainees, largely because of that wall. Two of them were quite a bit shorter than any Executive Advantage recruit. One was taller, but still shorter than the average EA recruit. Each time they’d run, though, their times improved. Seeing them take the wall at a leap and vault sideways, their feet swinging over the wall a split second after they’d heaved themselves above it with sheer arm strength, Mackenzie was confident they’d beat most of the EA men, if not all of them.
Less than five minutes later, her predictions came true, as the last of the women beat the first of the EA men’s time by a full two minutes. The women clustered just beyond the starting line, laughing and giving each other high fives. Their faces were flushed with pride, and they showed no sign of being cold. The doctor waved them over to blow into a breath analyzer for evidence of drug enhancement, which she never found but had to document anyway, and respiratory by-products of exertion. While they were doing that, the men waited impatiently for their turn.
The men were also military desk-jockeys. Wanting age-based comparisons as well as gender diversity, they’d selected a thirty-five-year-old male and one who was forty-six. The third was fifty-four, but he had statistics like the forty-six-year-old. Mackenzie felt they should have had someone who wasn’t in tip-top shape, but this man had been the only person older than fifty to volunteer. None of them had been told that they could expect rejuvenation. It had been a happy surprise for all of them, but especially for the oldest man.
When the doctor finished with the women, she signaled the EA instructor with the starting gun, and he had the men line up. Their expressions took on a glint of determination, and the oldest pointed at his next younger companion with a gesture that said he was going to win. The other two grinned and got into a starting position like runners, crouched with one leg extended on the starting block and the other bent, their arms lightly supporting them in the awkward position. The gun went off, and the men literally exploded off the blocks.
The youngest one took the wall in a flip, landing at the top with his hands extended and pulling his entire body over to drop lightly to the other side. Mackenzie admired the move while at the same time hoping Carter wouldn’t try it when it was his turn. It looked like a good way to get injured to her. The other two took it in the same way the women had. As they disappeared around the curve, Mackenzie noted they were already ten to fifteen seconds ahead of the women’s times at that point.
They came back into view with the youngest and oldest neck and neck, the middle guy lagging two steps behind. They’d beaten the women by only about thirty seconds average, but the middle guy did come in last. They rushed over to the doctor without being prompted, laughing and pushing among themselves. As they came into hearing range over the cold breeze that had begun blowing, Mackenzie heard the oldest say to the middle guy, “I told you not to carb load. That just makes you sluggish.”
‘Sluggish’ wasn’t a word Mackenzie would have applied to any of them. The doctor completed the same measurements she’d done on the women, and once again signaled to the starter. Carter and Sean were already lined up at the starting line, so all they had to do was get in position. Mackenzie admired Carter’s trim physique as he did so. He’d never been soft, always fit. But now he could have been a model on one of those romances Liu was always reading, she thought.
Carter and Sean had developed a friendly rivalry over this obstacle course. At first, Sean had won, though not by much. But Sean had heavier muscles, a different body type. And gradually, as the respirocytes and Carter’s desire to train had sculpted his body to a near-perfect specimen, he’d gotten faster. For the past three months, he’d been the one to finish first, and he’d pioneered the wall vault that everyone else now emulated. Except for that flip guy, Mackenzie thought.
The gun sounded, and Mackenzie’s breath caught in her throat as a split second later, Carter’s body executed a perfect flip over the wall. He dropped to the ground as Sean’s legs cleared the top of the wall. Only three minutes later, Carter came back into view alone. It was the first time that had happened. Mackenzie was use
d to a photo finish, but for a split second she wondered if Sean had injured himself. Then he came into view, five paces behind Carter. Carter was going to win, handily!
Mackenzie couldn’t believe her eyes when Carter slowed a few yards from the wall, and Sean caught up with him. They both sprinted the rest of the way and went over in the original vault move, and they crossed the finish line together. They threw their arms over each other’s shoulders and walked together to the doctor, who was tsking in irritation. “Carter, you did that deliberately. And it’s screwed up my stats,” she said.
Carter winked at her. “I think those are my stats,” he said. “And we’re not officially part of the trials, are we?”
49
IN JUNE, CARTER, Mackenzie, the team clinician, and Irene O’Connell traveled together in unmarked cars from A-Echelon headquarters to DARPA headquarters, not far from the Pentagon and Fort Myer. They were there to present the findings of the first phase of the respirocyte research. Mackenzie hoped to receive permission to continue her independent research into medical uses for the technology. The delicate business of how to help people all over the world with it, without revealing US military uses, was on her agenda for the meeting as well.
The project fell under the auspices of DARPAs Biological Technologies Office (BTO), Battlefield Medicine division. Led by a medical doctor with a distinguished military background, BTO had been conceived in 2014 to overcome the logistical obstacles of delivering needed medical interventions in war-torn areas. Dr. Bradley Stevensen had seen the potential in Mackenzie’s research immediately upon hearing of it and was eager to hear of her progress.
At his invitation, several of his top researchers were on hand for the meeting. Some had known of the research. Others were just now hearing about it, as it had been need-to-know previously. Mackenzie was a little nervous. Although she and the clinician had what she considered to be spectacular success to show for the project funds, this would be the first time Dr. Stevensen, who was the embodiment of her sponsor and client, would hear of the unauthorized use of the respirocyte generators on Carter and Sean.
