Genesis War (Genesis Book 3)

by Eliza Green

  The car passed through the barricades and pulled up outside a cordoned-off neighbourhood—one of the areas set up as a temporary refuge for migrants from the colder countries. But London had become too cold to be considered a sanctuary, and the migrants had since moved on. Now, tall electrical gates surrounded the neighbourhood that included a hospital.

  Five genetically altered men in heavy beige coats with fur collars and gel masks stood guard at the gate. Not nearly as intimidating as the bodyguards for the board members, but large enough that the buttons of their coats barely closed over their massive frames. Deighton wondered if they should alter the bodyguards’ lungs so they wouldn’t need the gel masks. Perhaps in the next design.

  Military equipment scanned the car and one of the men turned off the electricity that surged through the gates. The heavy gates swung open and the car moved forward. The giant men stood to attention as the car passed them. Further on it pulled up outside the plain white hospital that carried out illegal experimentations with failed prototypes intended for black market use.

  Deighton pressed his gel mask to his face and flexed his shaky hands. After he’d seen Harvey, he would get another muscle-stabilising injection in his hands at one of the clinics. He gripped the handle, but waited for the shakes to subside before getting out of the car. He didn’t want to look weak in front of the man he hoped would run the alteration programme following its approval. It was silly vanity really—his genetics were on file for the doctor to see.

  He exited the car and approached the entrance to the hospital. Harvey Buchanan waited for him just inside the force field. He extended a hand. ‘Mr Deighton. It’s a pleasure to see you again.’

  ‘You’re a hard man to track down.’ Deighton shook his hand.

  ‘As I should be, Mr Deighton.’ Harvey walked on. ‘Shall we chat upstairs where we will be more comfortable?’

  Deighton removed his mask and stuck it in his pocket. He walked with his hands clasped tight behind his back. On the third floor, Harvey showed him into a room with a round table and two chairs. A white bench ran along one wall with a DNA analyser and a monitor on it. The space was small, but neat. Deighton nodded his approval; he hated untidiness and loose ends. That’s what the Indigenes were, loose ends—survivors of the original explosions who had mistakenly been allowed to live. The government should have wiped them out the minute they’d outlived their usefulness.

  Harvey showed Deighton to a seat and sat on the chair opposite him. Harvey crossed his legs and smiled. Deighton wished he had an ounce of Harvey’s confidence. Or perhaps Mr Buchanan had no fear of anyone leaving him behind on Earth.

  ‘You said over the communication feed that you wished to discuss your alteration again,’ said the doctor. ‘Mr Deighton, I have to be honest. The older you get, the less likely the change will work. And with your condition, it makes success much less likely.’

  Deighton removed his coat without meeting Harvey’s eyes, and sat down. ‘I understand my condition Mr Buchanan, but I want you to check me over again.’

  Harvey watched him for a moment, then nodded. ‘If you insist, Mr Deighton.’ He pulled a swab from a drawer and took a buccal sample from Deighton’s cheek.

  Harvey prepared the sample and placed it in the DNA analyser. The process took only five minutes but it felt much longer than that to Deighton. His life depended on a positive result. The buzzing noise from the analyser made his heart thump louder. Harvey activated the monitor.

  ‘Okay, Mr Deighton. The results are as I expected. You still carry several genetic mutations. The dopamine treatments at the clinic have done a good job of temporarily stopping the Parkinson’s in its tracks, and the muscle-stabilising shots have helped, but nothing has succeeded in fixing the mutated code. Your code has actually worsened since your last visit.’

  Deighton nodded. He fumbled in his left pocket and produced two vials. ‘One contains genetic material from an adult second-generation Indigene,’ he said. ‘The other is from a new Indigene that we created from the first Indigene’s genetic matter.’ He held the vials up containing Anton’s and Serena’s DNA. ‘Isolate the corresponding code and use it to fix mine.’

  Harvey took the vials from him and placed a sample of each in the DNA analyser. After another long five minutes the results appeared on screen. He smiled, pointing to the left image. ‘I assume this one’s from the second gen? Interesting results.’ He pointed to the code on the right. ‘The specific mutations in the new Indigene’s genetic material look quite different to anything we’ve seen so far.’ Harvey stood up, but his grim expression concerned Deighton. ‘There’s still no guarantee it will work for you.’

  Deighton rolled up his sleeve and held out his arm. ‘I have no choice but to try.’

  Harvey drew a sample of Deighton’s blood and combined it with a sample from each vial. He then added nanoids to each mix before injecting them back into Deighton one at a time. They waited for the nanoids from the first mix to get to work, then Harvey took a new sample from Deighton’s cheek. The repeated the process with the second mix and the results came through the DNA analyser. The screen showed the side-by-side results. Deighton could see the DNA from Anton’s sample had joined with his code, then separated and died. The sample from Serena’s had done the same, but separated after a longer spell.

  Harvey tapped the monitor with his finger. ‘You know, I examined an interesting patient at the safe house near Finsbury Park just an hour ago.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Laura O’Halloran.’

  Deighton’s curiosity faded. ‘So?’

  ‘She presented with mutations in her code as a result of Indigene DNA. Her mutations are out of control and her body is fighting against them as it would an infection.’

  ‘When did that occur? From her time on Exilon 5?’

  Harvey nodded. ‘It would appear that one of the Indigenes treated her with nanoids and slammed in copies of his own genes for good measure.’

  ‘What does that have to do with my problem?’ said Deighton.

  ‘Because with the right DNA sequence, we may be able to force your body into accepting the changes,’ said Harvey. ‘It may even be possible to turn you fully. If the copied Indigene genes are stronger than human genes, the stronger genetics, and their mutations, will prevail. But the sample must contain pure Indigene code.’

  A thrill ran through Deighton at hearing a real solution to his problem.

  He held out his arm. ‘I assume you have a sample from Laura? Test me immediately.’

  Harvey shook his head. ‘Not yet. Laura’s body fought the change and at best I have a sample of confused genetic mess. The sample must be pure—no human genetic material present.’ Harvey pointed to the vials that Deighton had brought with him. ‘These are no good. They were contaminated at the laboratory, mixed with human genetic code for testing, I presume. I would need a pure sample, from Serena. Her code might work.’

  Tears and rage took hold. Deighton jumped up and flipped the table in front of him. Harvey slid his chair back while a panting Deighton struggled to regain composure. He’d had the perfect opportunity to take what he needed, but his obsession with changing Susan Bouchard into Serena had drawn his attention away from his own needs. They had taken pure samples from Anton—several to be exact—but had combined his code with Susan Bouchard’s so Susan’s body wouldn’t reject the changes. He had presumed that taking a DNA sample from Serena would be enough. If both samples were contaminated with human genetic material, then Serena had not changed into an Indigene and was still technically human when they took her sample. ‘What the fuck am I supposed to do, Harvey? She’s not on Earth anymore.’

  Harvey stood up. ‘You must get a pure sample, Mr Deighton. There’s no other way to check if we can fix the mutated code that gives you Parkinson’s.’

  Deighton sat down again as his mind raced. A journey to Exilon 5 was his only chance to get a pure sample from the Indigenes. But how could he get close to Serena? If word got
out of his impending arrival among the military there, it could get back to the Indigenes. Maybe that would draw them out of their hiding place.

  He got to his feet, grabbed the vials from the bench and left the room. Harvey called after him to offer his help but unless the doctor could get a sample, he was useless to him. Outside, he climbed into the town car with a renewed sense of determination. The only way to play the Indigenes at their game would be to play his own, in a place where the humans had the advantage.

  He would drive them out of hiding, to the surface of Exilon 5.

  24

  Anton slept solidly for two days following his traumatic separation from Benedict. Given what had happened to him, that was to be expected, but a frustrated Stephen wanted to speak with his friend who he missed. So he distracted himself by working with Serena to control his envisioning ability. When he let the visions through, they didn’t hurt so much. In fact, they felt stronger, longer lasting. But what Margaux had said about Serena being an influencer played on his mind.

  That evening, he met Serena in one of the testing labs. Arianna was with her. While he had no issues with her presence, he still couldn’t work out why she had changed her mind about Serena. Had Serena influenced her?

  Arianna hesitated by the door until Stephen called her inside. A long work bench the length of wall held items from the surface including a laser scalpel, a monitor and a DNA analyser. He had laid out some cheek swabs.

  In the centre of the room sat a 3D body image scanner with an attached flat bed—the largest item they’d stolen to date. With a few modifications, the body scanner could now detect and analyse new metals as well as the ones inbuilt to the computer program.

  Serena looked around the lab that she’d never been in before. Her aura colours showed greys and yellows—sadness and uncertainty. She went straight to the bench and picked up the laser scalpel, turning it over in her hands.

  ‘Where did you get this?’ She frowned.

  ‘From one of the human labs on the surface,’ said Stephen.

  ‘I think I recognise it.’ She quickly put it down. ‘Come on, let’s get to work. I’d like to know what’s going on in my head.’

  He wished he could read her thoughts, but he promised never to delve without her permission again.

  Arianna stood back out of the way while Serena and Stephen got to work. Stephen turned on the DNA analyser and grabbed Serena’s hand. ‘Come stand next to me.’

  The yellow of her aura intensified but she obeyed. He took a cheek sample from Serena and processed it through the DNA analyser.

  ‘Where did you learn to do all this?’ she asked while they waited for the results.

  ‘I picked it up from the scientists when I was young. I had a natural aptitude for it and retained everything. The rest—well, let’s just say I made plenty of mistakes too.’ Stephen smiled.

  ‘What do you expect to find?’ Her words came out too soft.

  ‘I honestly don’t know.’ The DNA analyser hummed for a moment and the results displayed on screen. He leaned over them. ‘We know what Indigene DNA looks like. I want to see what’s different about yours.’

  ‘And if it looks the same?’

  ‘Then with your permission, I’d like to delve into your brain functionality.’

  Arianna came closer and together they studied the images of Serena’s genetic material on the monitor.

  ‘It’s not that different to our DNA,’ said Arianna.

  ‘Different enough.’ Stephen pointed at the screen. ‘Look at the mutations here. They’re what make her the way she is. The change is natural in you and me, Arianna, because we are second-generation Indigenes. But in Serena—and first-generation Indigenes—the change was forced, probably aggressively so in Serena’s case; the mutations are more obvious. Time may have been a factor when they created her. But their changes are bold and seem to push beyond our developments.’

  ‘And my mother?’ said Arianna.

  ‘Any first-generation Indigene would have been given longer to transform. Anna wouldn’t have felt pain.’ Stephen paused for a moment. ‘Is that why you changed your mind about Serena, because of your mother?’

  Arianna nodded. ‘My mother was Elise’s assistant when she was human. Elise wouldn’t tell me about it so I “walked” her mind. She tried to hide it from me, but she couldn’t in the end.’ She shook her head and sighed. ‘Even if Serena is a plant, she’s not to blame. She has free will, which means she is here is for a different reason to Anton.’

  ‘I agree, she’s one of a kind.’ Stephen smiled at Serena who looked unsure. He gestured at the 3D body imaging scanner. ‘I need to scan your brain to see how the neural pathways work.’

  Serena lay down on the bed attached to the scanner and Stephen positioned the device over her head. The scanner hummed and circled over her. The process ended with a 3D image of her brain. The image floated in the air and he rotated it with his hands.

  Her brain lit up like the stars in the sky. ‘What do you make of this?’ He pointed to several bright areas.

  Serena sat up and frowned. ‘Why are there so many active areas?’

  ‘You don’t know?’ said Stephen. ‘You said you were a scientist in District Eight, which we now know is not true. But I did see a lab in your memories. And when you came in here first, you went straight for the laser scalpel.’

  ‘I... I wish my memories were clearer. I remember moments, things, being in places, but not how to do anything. Please explain it.’

  Stephen hid his concern. ‘You’re using all parts of your brain simultaneously. Margaux may be right about you being an influencer.’ He pointed to a specific area on the 3D image. ‘To influence, we must possess awareness of our own thoughts and that of others, and choose to act outside our preferred thought style. It’s called Whole Brain Thinking. Several areas are involved: the left and right sides of the cerebral cortex for logical and holistic thoughts, and the left and right sides of the limbic brain for planned and emotional responses.’

  Serena passed her hand through the image.

  ‘We all have a preferred thinking style—a bit of one, a bit of the other—but in you, all areas of influence are extremely active.’

  ‘So you’re suggesting I can influence who I like just by talking to them? That’s impossible.’

  ‘Well, you have power over me and most of the males in this district,’ said Stephen.

  ‘But not the females,’ said Arianna.

  ‘Why not?’ said Serena.

  ‘We know the skills in our first generation are an extension of who they were as humans,’ Stephen continued. ‘The mutations in their code enhanced their existing skills. It’s probably the same for you. Whatever your human role was, you probably influenced people to some degree. People may have been drawn to you without understanding why.’ Stephen looked away.

  ‘You think that’s why I’m with you, Stephen—because I have some sort of hold over you?’

  He looked back at her. ‘The thought had crossed my mind.’

  ‘It couldn’t be further from the truth.’ She got off the bed. ‘If I have this ability, it’s not a conscious thing I can control.’

  ‘It isn’t, Stephen,’ said Arianna. ‘She’s not aware of it but she can learn to control it. I resisted her influence at the beginning. She could practise on me.’

  Stephen was about to respond when he saw Gabriel by the entrance to the lab. ‘It’s time,’ he said. ‘Leon is bringing Anton over. We must find a way to remove the device in his head. I’ve rounded up some help.’

  Serena and Arianna wanted to help but Stephen persuaded them to start practise on Serena gaining control over her influencing ability. He felt relief when they left knowing Anton wouldn’t want an audience for this next part.

  He paced as he waited for Leon to bring Anton to the lab. The humans had placed the tracer device in his head, but why? What did they want with the recordings on the device? Three weeks with the device Anton’s head, three weeks
of the Indigene’s secrets life in data form. But no attacks had happened He had to assume the omicron rock had masked the signal the device emitted.

  Leon turned up with Anton, but Stephen froze when he saw his friend. The deterioration in his physical appearance since they’d separated Benedict from Anton shocked him. Stephen shook his feelings off and watched as Leon led a weak Anton who looked older than his thirty years to the table. The limp, the one Stephen had noticed before, was more prominent now. Leon’s worried expression matched Stephen’s feelings. What had the humans done to him? Three of Anton’s old research team entered the room. Their auras were mostly shades of grey and dark yellows but they masked their fears at seeing Anton in this way.

  With the strength of an old man, Anton pointed to the body scanner and his research team rallied around him. Together, they helped him lie down. Anton winced while one of his team switched the machine on and positioned the scanner over his head. The giant machine whirred into life and produced a clear 3D image of Anton’s brain. But instead of stopping there, the scanner continued to run the length of Anton’s body.

  Stephen stepped forward. ‘What are you doing? The device is in his head.’

  Anton barely managed a smile at Stephen. ‘I’m in a lot of pain right now. Benedict knocked me around. And then there were the experiments on Earth. I need to know what they did to me.’

  Stephen chewed his thumb as the scanner completed its job. A new 3D image of the inner workings of Anton’s body produced next to the one of his brain. Everything looked normal until the scanner mapped out the lower half of his body. Stephen couldn’t contain his surprise when he saw it.