Not sure what to do, Ben stood there for a moment as Buffy stared hard at him. She was the complete opposite of Doctor Robinson. A tall, blonde Amazonian ready to blast him into next Tuesday if her soured frown was anything to go by. A squirm traveled up his spine, but he didn’t let it get the better of him and instead stared back at Buffy Josson until she shrugged and nodded her head granting permission for him to enter.
He stepped into a cold, dimly lit room, where banks of computer monitors rested against several walls. A hologram of the Sector building shown upward from a matrix console, and he saw the devastation to the doorway.
The petite woman walked up to Vic and slapped him across the face. “You stole my technology.”
“It needed to be tested!” Vic snapped, rubbing the spot on his cheek.
“You might have ruined all our efforts just to ruin a few eardrums.”
“You trying to tell me people didn’t die in that blast?” Ben asked, pointing to the front. “Glass went flying like shrapnel!”
Instead of answering him, she turned to Buffy. “Casualties?”
“Minor lacerations and a few busted eardrums. The LSG worked exactly how I designed it to. More scare, less mess. All civilians had been moved from the immediate zone by the megahertz field.”
“Well, this is where it’s going to get messy,” she warned. “They’ll plaster Victor’s face all over the place, link him to us, and target us as terrorists.”
“We’ve hidden his tracks as best as possible,” Buffy said. “The glamor shield will protect him if he needs to go out again.”
“They’ll figure out we have advanced tech. They’ll counter-develop.”
“I told you I was willing to do this,” Victor broke in. “I knew the consequences when I volunteered. Besides, they’ll be too busy fixing what was broken.”
“Excuse me,” Ben broke in. Both females turned to look at him. “Are you saying that no one was killed in that blast today?”
“Of course not,” Buffy said a bit indignantly. “We’re here to stop Sector, not join to their ever-increasing body count. We moved people out of the projected blast zone by simple harmonic oscillators, driven by sine waves with a frequency equal to the oscillator's frequency. Brilliant move if I can toot my own horn.”
“I have no idea what you just said,” Ben admitted.
“A projected high-pitched sound made people move away from it, although they didn’t know they were hearing anything,” Victor explained.
“The LSG stands for localized sonic grenade,” Doctor Robinson said. “Buffy here likes to develop new tech. Victor, unbeknownst to us, went in as a maintenance worker and placed the resonators in various places around the entrance some weeks ago. This controlled the blast pattern. The foyer wasn’t damaged; the structure wasn’t hurt. It was a small blast that seemed like a big blast. But basically, we had people leave by giving them earaches.”
“Wow,” Ben said. “Color me impressed. But why target Sector’s headquarters? Why not one their other laboratories?”
“Because that building is where they decide who to take!” Victor said bitterly. “They use people in horrible ways trying to maintain their hold on power.”
“That tells me nothing,” Ben said softly. “It’s all conjecture—”
“No!” Victor took a step toward him threateningly. “Open your eyes. Your cousin has disappeared. We’ve got the computer program data logs to show you that the news you’ve been getting is nothing but a false narrative, one that Sector wants you to believe.”
“Hold up, I didn’t say Sector was innocent,” Ben said. “I know they rigged the lottery. My husband, Dain, had his DNA stolen, analyzed, and then suddenly his number is being streamed across vidscreens everywhere.”
“Stolen?” Doctor Robinson asked.
“A woman immobilized him, and when she kissed him got a cheek swab. Then, she gave him a lottery chip in his arm.”
The doctors gave each other an uneasy look.
“Why did he participate?” Victor asked. “He could’ve walked away.”
“He bargained with them. I had PWP, and they fixed me for his cooperation.”
At his words, Doctor Josson turned and grabbed a scanner before quickly running it up and down his body.
“Fixing means nanotech,” she muttered. “Goddamn it, Michelina, you brought a bugged decoy into our…”
She stopped talking and stood up straight, glancing from the scanner to him and then back again.
“What the hell?” she muttered to herself.
“What?” Ben demanded. “Am I sending off transmissions?”
Buffy shook her head. “No. Your nanotech has died off. But … you have two biosignatures.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
She handed the scanner to Doctor Robinson, who did the same scan again. Pursing her lips, she turned the machine off and on again, letting it reboot up before doing another scan. All the while, Ben stood passively, sweating bullets at their continued silence. Was he majorly sick? Like, cancer and death sick? Did the nanotech contribute to doing something harmful?
“What the hell is going on?” he finally asked, unable to stay silent any longer.
“Ben … I don’t know how to say this,” Doctor Robinson finally mumbled. “But … but you have two biosignatures.”
“Yeah, didn’t understand what you meant the first time around. What do you see? Am I dying?”
“No.” Both women answered at the same time. They looked at each other before Buffy stepped closer.
“How long have you had the nanotech?”
“Um … it lasted about three weeks, I think. Why? What the fuck is going on?”
“It seems like the nanotech may have made some modifications to your physiology,” she continued. “It may have shifted some of your anatomy.”
Her words were like meaningless chatter, so he gestured with his hand for her to continue.
“You have a second heartbeat,” she whispered.
“I have two hearts?”
“Well, not you. You have one heartbeat, and the fetus you’re carrying has another.”
Ben blinked, looked at each of them, then gave a humorless chuckle. “You two had me going, but fuck you both. I don’t need you or this shitty-ass resistance party being led inside a basement. I don’t know where the fuck I am, but if I never see any of you guys again, it’ll be too soon.”
“She’s not joking, Ben,” Doctor Robinson said softly. Her earnest face remained stalwart. “Your biosignature is detecting you and a second life. A human fetus.”
Confused, Ben shook his head. “Impossible. I’m a guy.”
“And I never thought Sector would stoop to doing experiments on humans.”
“You think Nate’s one, too?” Buffy asked Doctor Robinson.
“Has to be. This would make sense of his file, the breakthrough my ex was hinting about. If women can’t get pregnant, then why not men? Their hormones can be manipulated; they have estrogen and can be administered oxytocin. What men don’t have is the uterine virus that’s been stripping women of their fertility. We’ll have to study him to find out how. I mean, there has to be semen and an egg, so where did the egg come from?”
“And how did the semen get to the egg if they’re two men?”
Ben backed up until he crashed into a desk, and then he slid to the floor in a boneless heap. They couldn’t be right, could they? He shook his head, trying to deny everything. Doctor Robinson squatted down next to him, talking, but her words were distorted and made no sense. Nothing computed in his brain. Then his stomach decided to upchuck, and he was vaguely aware of a trashcan being stuck under his chin. As he puked out his guts, he wondered if he could go back in time and erase it all.
Then he started to laugh at the absurd thought, and he couldn’t stop laughing. Could he die from laughing?
Was he already dead and this was hell?
Or purgatory?
Oh God, what the fuck is happeni
ng to me?
Chapter Ten
The transport made a picture perfect landing on the Dome City landing platform, and Dain followed his fellow security guards through the underground tunnel designed to ferret them into the oxygen-rich atmosphere of the human colony. Behind him, Sidor brought up the rear. Bruises still marred his face, but the overconfident supervisor had backed off from harassing him. After their scuffle, all the men had left him completely alone, even to the point of moving if he sat down to eat next to someone. He didn’t mind the don’t-fuck-with-me reputation. That would carry him well into whatever scenario Doctor Trask planned for him.
Once they were all processed through the entry point, they were led into a debriefing room to learn of their assignments. Sidor passed out identi-cards to each man, leaving Dain’s for last.
“These are loaded with your assignments,” he said to everyone, although he kept staring at Dain. “You’ve been assigned to the medical research laboratory. How did you secure such a cushy position?”
Dain took his card. “My sunny disposition, I suppose.”
“Sure,” he said dryly, then turned away. “All right, men. Until you get outfitted with your permanent assigned positions, these cards will be your lifeline. Do not lose them. Your current assigned areas will be reevaluated in two weeks, and anyone not making the cut will be taken back to Earth, and believe me, you do not want those shitty jobs. Only then, if you make the cut, will you get your permanent work chips implanted. So, work hard, don’t step out of line, and don’t fuck up.”
The men gave a collective chuckle, all except for Dain. He knew his assignment was different from all the rest. Doctor Trask assured him he wasn’t here to patrol.
The thought made him want to put his hand through a wall. Or maybe Sidor’s face. A plan began to form in his brain, one that might not be too bright, but might buy him some time. Separated from Ben, forced to take down some unknown resistance movement against Sector, Sidor became the focus of his anger. As the others began filtering out of the room, he remained seated, knowing this would push the supervisor’s buttons.
“I said you’re dismissed.”
Dain glanced around to see Sidor staring at him, fists on hips. “Let the good little soldiers move on down the line. They make me want to puke.”
“You seem to think you’re above reprimand.” He walked over until he stood next to him. “I can assure you, I can get you booted back to Earth.”
“Yeah?” Dain questioned. “You think so? Good. That’s exactly what I want.”
He kicked out and caught Sidor in the balls. The man crumbled in a painful heap, holding his injured dick.
“Fuck you,” Dain spat at him.
For a long moment, Sidor didn’t say a word, and Dain just sat there, watching as he writhed around on the floor in agony. Long minutes passed, until Sidor was able to get his breath back as the pain receded. Only then did Sidor manage to get on his feet, and he hobbled over to him, activating a set of electronic handcuffs.
“I’m placing you under arrest,” Sidor muttered.
“Your voice is a little high pitched there,” Dain observed, trying to hide his amusement.
“Get up, you bastard.”
Dain rose and turned, bringing his arms behind him so Sidor could restrain him. As he was led away, he couldn’t help smirking. The charges wouldn’t hold, and he’d eventually be taken to his assignment, of that he had no doubt. Trask went to too much trouble to get him here. But at least he had some time to think and plan his next move.
Smashing Sidor’s gonads just put the cherry on top.
****
As he found out, he only got a day’s reprieve. He lay on the uncomfortable bunkbed in his holding cell, with his arms folded behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. He may look the picture of a docile prisoner, but all he kept thinking about was the information he’d been able to collect since he left Earth a month ago.
Sven Robinson was the director of the medical research laboratory in Dome City. He’d be able to hack directly into the facilities main frame to find out what Sector really was up to. Once he had what he needed, it was a just a matter of getting the information to the populace and watch Sector come toppling down. Then he’d be on his way home to Ben. It might be prudent to leave their home. Perhaps convince Nate and Ranger to go with them. They had to go somewhere Sector couldn’t touch them. Maybe Canada. Certain parts of their northern territory were considered free range, prompting many who wanted to live off grid to move there. It might be a prudent plan.
His musings were interrupted when two guards appeared in front of his electric fortified cell. He didn’t move, even when a tall, distinguished looking man came to a stop between the guards and stood staring at him. White hair, glasses, and dressed in a lab coat—Dain had an idea who the man was.
“The least you could do is rise,” the man said. His voice was slow and deep, giving a wide range of what age he could be. Fifty or eighty, really it was a toss-up.
“The least you could do is send me back home.”
“Doctor Trask said you would be difficult.”
“Yeah? Well, here’s what I think of Doctor Trask.” Dain raised one butt cheek off the bed to fart loudly.
“Charming.”
Dain shrugged. “You’re Robinson I guess.”
“I am. My name is Sven Robinson.”
“Nice to meet you, Sven. I’d give you the same courtesy as Doctor Trask, but I’m all out of gas right now.”
Robinson rolled his eyes and motioned to one of the guards to deactivate the cell. Once the field was down, Dain sat up and swung his feet to the ground.
“You were head of Intelligence?”
“I was.” He stood up and opened his arms. “Am I all you imagined?”
“You might have gotten away with that attitude on Earth, but up here, I’m the one in charge. Just remember, you have a loved one back home that we’re monitoring.”
At the threat on Ben, Dain lost his cocky attitude. He stood up straight and lowered his arms. “Don’t threaten him.”
Robinson lifted his chin. “I’m not threatening. Simple statement. Do we have an understanding, Mister Cardile?”
Dain felt the proverbial noose tightening. He had procrastinated long enough. Time to do what he came to do. “Leave Ben alone, and yes, we have an understanding.”
“Good.” Satisfaction oozed from Robinson in waves. With a barely imperceptible nod of his head, both guards grabbed for him. Each arm was held tight as Dain tried to wiggle free.
“What the hell!” he yelled. “I said I would cooperate!”
“And you would for a time, or least on the surface you’d be cooperating. But you and I both know I’d be a fool to trust you. I had planned for you to infiltrate the resistance. Get close to the insurrectionist Tarak Dev and eliminate him. But I’ve developed something new that must be tested.” Robinson pulled a hypodermic syringe from his coat pocket. “This is a revolutionary nanotech. More of a biotech, really. Experimental. I’ve been developing it for some time. And I think now is the perfect time to see whether or not my investment was worth it.”
Dain strained to get away, but Robinson grabbed a fistful of his hair, holding him still while he plunged the needle into his neck. Immediately, the world began to swim, and Dain’s limbs went strangely limp. Then every single thought he had in his head disappeared, leaving his mind a blank slate.
“You will do as I say. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Dain whispered.
“You’ll start with the small pockets of the rebels. Let Tarak Dev come to us.”
Chapter Eleven
“For God’s sake, Ben,” Doctor Robinson snapped. “Just lie down!”
“I will lie down when you get this thing out of me,” Ben snapped. “It’s been two weeks, and if you don’t do it soon, this xenomorph is going to pop out of my chest and eat all of you!”
“How many times do I have to tell you that all of our scans show it�
��s a human. Anyway, what’s a xenomorph?”
He wiggled a finger at her. “It’s deceiving you. Parasitic aliens have ways, you know.”
She frowned at him. “I think your imagination is working overtime.”
“Oh yeah? Then how the hell does a man get knocked up?” he demanded.
“Calm down and please sit,” she said, pointing to the medical bed. Ben took one long look at her, then complied, flopping onto the uncomfortable table. “Now, I’ve been studying this nanotech, and it seems like they created a cloaca.”
“A cloak and what?”
“A cloaca,” she said. “It’s a posterior opening that birds use to procreate. It’s called a cloaca kiss—”
“What the fuck? Wait, wait, wait … are you telling me I’ve got to shit this parasite out?”
Doctor Robinson held up a hand. “We’ll give you a c-section.”
“Oh my God,” Ben muttered. “This just keeps going from bad to worse. This is not natural, Doc. I’m a freak. I’m a freak of nature. What the fuck am I gonna do?”
He wrapped his arms around himself and rocked a little from fear of the unknown.
“Ben, listen to me,” Doctor Robinson said. “I’m here for you. We’re all going to take care of you. You’re not alone.”
“I need Dain.”
“I understand.”
“How?” Ben whispered. “How did this happen to me?”
“From what I can assume, this nanotech was designed to do exactly this,” she said gently, patting his arm. “I’m assuming that some carried the ovum blueprints and waited until sperm was introduced, where it then formed a diploid cell. Then the nanotech created the protective uterus around it, creating the umbilical cord and placenta.”
“So … Trask did this to me?”
“This is sophisticated genetics mapping,” Doctor Robinson said. “Trask is good, but he’s not at that level. To create the computer program for the nanotech to carry out such an elaborate genetic modification could only come from Sven Robinson.”
Ben frowned. “Your ex-husband?”
Future, Betrayed Page 7
