The Founder's Strain (The Age of Man Book 2)

by David Brush

  Zuma nodded, tapping off the display. “Good, that’ll keep Karo’s mind off of things. He’s always talking about visiting Earth, and I’m sure that General Bismuth will be very interested to meet him.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  James walked across the white tile, staring off into the thick fog that hung freely in the air around him. The soft patter of footsteps in the distance continued to echo around the boundless void, masking their source. He turned, trying his best to follow the vibrations. After a moment of focus, he ran forward into the white, pushing blindly through the clouds.

  “Hello,” came the voice from behind him. He stopped dead in his tracks, pivoting around to face the young man, who looked to be in his early twenties.

  “Ryan,” said James softly, taking a step towards the boy.

  “You’re dying, Father.”

  James nodded. “I know.”

  “She’s trying to save you. Some part of her still remembers who you were before you became the man you are today.”

  “We’re too far from a medical facility. It’s not me she should be worried about right now anyway, it’s herself. She’s in serious danger.”

  “Yes. The spasms, the subtle twitching, the blinding pain she tries to conceal. Her mind is fraying. She needs to get help soon or she’ll be joining you. We’ll all be together at last.”

  James shook his head. “Not like this. She needs to let me go. With the planetary defenses activated, she should be able to force the sphinxes into helping her back off world.”

  “Perhaps, if she was thinking clearly. Then again, if she was thinking clearly, she’d kill you herself. In the end, it’s the monsters we create that destroy us. She deserves justice for what you did.”

  The ground shook, causing James to stumble over. He looked up as the white fog began to turn black, swirling above him. Pushing back onto his feet, he locked eyes with the young man, who stood unfazed. “There’s no such thing as justice, son. If there were, you’d have survived the pregnancy and she would have been able to hold you. She would have gotten to see you grow old. She loved you so much, Ryan. You would’ve been the only light in her wretched life, but she didn’t even get that. All she’s ever known is death.”

  “Because of you. You’re not a man, Father, you’re a lich. You feed on her energy to sustain yourself. Your very existence ensures that countless others will lose theirs. The empire that you chose to help create is breaking now, under the weight of your own deeds. You made your choice, and now you have to face the consequences of it.”

  Again the white tile shuddered, and the sky above was torn asunder. A dark vortex began raging overhead, drawing the black clouds up into its core. The young man stepped forward, and his skin began to ooze off of his face. “Look on your work, Father. You thought that love was only chemistry. You thought that it was something you could wield, but you were wrong. True love is transcendence. It’s unfathomable agony. It’s suffering so that someone else might know happiness. These are things you cannot comprehend. Your obsession, your lust, those are the qualities which you’ve managed to instill in her. But love? No. No chemical you inject into her brain will ever make her love you enough to lose you, even if it were for your own good. Look now at the lies you tell yourself. She was never truly yours. She was only the mirror in which you managed to reflect your own depravity.”

  James stepped back in horror as Ryan’s flesh dripped down onto the white tile. The boy took another step forward and his skeletal jaw lurched open. His eyes melted into swirling black dots, drawing the light into an endless abyss. All around him the wind whipped furiously, rising into the vortex above.

  “Look at me, Father, your precious son. This is what your love looks like. You feel noble now, that you might die with some semblance of valor. No…,” said the boy, continuing to drip. “You will live, and you will learn that sometimes justice looks remarkably like vengeance. Rise now, ascend into the void, and face your reckoning.”

  James felt his feet lift off of the shaking tile as the wind rushed stronger and stronger up into the black. He churned in the air, closing his eyes as he fell helplessly into oblivion. The darkness took him, and all that remained was dread.

  Haley pushed the paddles down onto James’s chest again, sending another volt arcing through his blackened torso. The dark scar tissue tracing the circuit of his cardiovascular system glowed softly, giving off a dull warmth. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and pushed the paddles down again, sending another shock coursing through him.

  “Doudna,” she said. “How much more can he take?”

  “It is hard to say, Dr. Hall. Approximately fifty percent are online again. I am amazed that the machines are still as functional as they appear to be. Why, if I might ask, are there nanobots engraved in Dr. Mercer’s cardiovascular system?”

  “He was nearly shot to death during the Corenian Civil War,” replied Haley, adjusting the light hanging over the gurney. “At the time, we were at a rundown triage center being manned by the CLF. They didn’t have the technology to syphon the bots back out after they’d stimulated the vascular regeneration, so they simply deactivated them in his chest. I suppose we could have removed the bots once the war was over, but after they’d scarred over it became more trouble than it was worth. As for them still working after all this time, I guess that’s a credit to Dr. Nightrick. He never half-assed anything.”

  “Fascinating. If we push any further, there is a strong chance that we will be doing more damage than good.”

  Haley nodded. “Well how are the ones online doing?”

  “They appear to be stabilizing him to some extent. It should keep him alive for a time, but he needs regenerated tissue. The bots are too old and too few to repair this much damage.”

  “Well he’s out of luck on that,” replied Haley, stepping away from table. “I’ll have to find a way to get him off planet.”

  “Not necessarily, Dr. Hall. This facility has everything you would need to generate tissue.”

  “To what end?” she asked, glancing over at the vital readings on the overhead display. According to the sensors, James had pulled out of the spiraling circulatory shock that had threatened to be the end of him.

  “Why, to engineer immunity, of course.”

  “Immunity? What are you talking about, Doudna? I thought this was a research installation,” she said, picking up the small iron pan full of blood-stained shrapnel. It had taken hours for her to dig out each piece of metal, trying all the while to keep James from bleeding to death. She set the container down on the counter near the door and pulled her bloodied gloves off, tossing them into one of the waste receptacles as she exited the room. Her head pulsed, and she staggered over against the wall. For a moment she leaned there, eyes closed tight, fighting to keep the darkness from swallowing her mind whole.

  “Are you alright, Doctor?”

  Haley gave a shallow nod. “I’m… I’m fine,” she said, pushing back off the paneling. “I just felt a little vertigo, that’s all. I haven’t been getting enough sleep. Don’t worry about me, just stay focused. What immunity were you on about?”

  “Immunity from the Plague, Dr. Hall. This facility was one of the primary installations for bestowing our immunity upon the lifeforms on this planet. Without our work here, Dawn would be as ravaged as the rest of the galaxy.”

  “I’m not following, Doudna,” said Haley, walking down the corridor leading out of the facility’s medical wing. “If we knew how to engineer immunity to the Plague, we wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

  The AI projected its yellow visage up out of the terminal a few paces ahead of her. “I apologize, Doctor. I thought you had been made aware. According to my records, there are no redactions for you or Dr. Mercer regarding this issue.”

  “Explain,” said Haley as a frown began to take root on her face.

  “Twenty years ago, in the immediate aftermath of the Sphingian War, Dr. Nightrick set to work creating an insurance policy f
or our survival in the event that we ever faced annihilation again. He was convinced that when the Xarkulthian Empire decided to finish what it had started, it would mean the end of mankind. At numerous dark facilities across the Human Empire, he constructed a superweapon that he called ‘the Desolator,’ consisting of a dispersal unit and a highly lethal viral component known as ‘the Founder’s Strain.’ It functioned as a biological scatter bomb, primed upon release to wipe out all life in the universe except those with a certain genomic pattern. Using his own DNA, Dr. Nightrick programmed a section of base recognition into the weapon that would grant immunity to anyone whose genetic code contained the so-called ‘Passover Sequence,’ which is unique to homo sapiens.”

  Haley felt the blood rush out of her head. “Oh my God… he… he created the Plague.”

  “Yes. All of our stock is accounted for, except for the Desolator ordinance that went missing with the Lost Fleet shortly after its conception. That is the likely source of the outbreak we are currently experiencing. This installation was used to bioengineer our immunity into the lifeforms on Dawn. Each creature on this planet possesses the Passover Sequence, protecting it from the scourge.”

  “But why?” she said, feeling a fresh wave of despair wash over her. “Why would he send us here if he already knew the truth? If he wasn’t the one who released it, then why not just give the cure to the rest of the galaxy? Trillions have died and he could have stopped it all.”

  Doudna’s yellow figure flickered lightly. “Doing so would require admitting that the outbreak was mankind’s fault in the first place. Though we did not utilize the weapon ourselves, we did create it. Dr. Nightrick was no doubt concerned that acknowledging guilt would cause the rest of the galaxy to unite against us. A coalition of that magnitude would destroy humanity with ease. Unfortunately, a period of galactic Plague incubation was required before we could ‘discover’ the cure. Otherwise, too many questions would have arisen, especially when faced with the reality of the solution.”

  “We weren’t sent here to discover the cure for the Plague,” said Haley, leaning against the wall as her head began to pulse again. “We were sent here to make sure that the sphinxes don’t discover it.”

  “Yes,” said Doudna. “And if you fail, mankind will be annihilated.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Dr. Nightrick looked around the bustling command center sitting in the inner sanctum of the partially constructed Charon Detention Facility. Large screens loomed over the various consoles, sending an endless flow of data out to the technicians that sat dutifully at their stations, racing to save their trapped director, the last great hero of the Raynon Uprising. The young doctor paced around the circular room, stopping periodically to get a closer look at an uplink or to let his eyes flicker over the latest report from High Command. Behind him, Dr. Karich and General Bismuth stood silently.

  “John,” said Dr. Karich as his pupil marched by again. “They’ll get there.”

  Nightrick frowned. “Maqbara isn’t manned to withstand a coordinated siege. Every second that passes makes it more likely we’ll be burying her instead of rescuing her.”

  “We’re doing everything we can,” said General Bismuth, gesturing towards the map projected across the huge display at the far end of the room. “I don’t know how they broke the line at Al-Tukar, but they plunged deep when they did. Look at the formation they entered. This was their plan all along.”

  “Their plan? Your goddamn job is to know what their plan is before we have one of our vulnerable citadels surrounded by these marauding apes,” said Nightrick, turning away from the map. “We’re closing in from behind them. By the time our army gets there, they’ll have the city, they’ll have the institute, and they’ll be dug in behind one of our own fucking fortresses.”

  “Central Intelligence miscalculated their numbers,” replied the general, keeping a level tone. “It’s hard to get a good read on these groups when they hide their soldiers among civilian populations. Half of that army was probably behind our line in the first place. We just don’t have enough troops to keep every city on lockdown all the time. We’re barely holding the front as it is.”

  Nightrick waved his hand in dismissal. “You’re not holding the front, obviously. Have they reestablished communication?”

  “Sir,” called one of the technicians, shooting onto his feet. “Just now. The signal is weak, but the line is open.”

  “Keep it stable,” said Nightrick, hurrying over to the console. The technician swiped a command into his glowing panel. A deep silence greeted them as the line opened, pierced finally by a woman’s voice, peppered in the sounds of gunfire off in the distance.

  “John…”

  “Zoe,” replied the doctor, pushing the technician aside. “What’s your position?”

  “I’m in the main hub at the Corenian Institute for Artificial Intelligence. We’ve got the site on full lockdown, but we don’t have enough soldiers here to hold for much longer. The city has nearly been overrun.” The muffled sound of movement broadcast out to the room. After a moment, her voice filled the chamber again. “I’ve transmitted every single file here over to High Command. We can’t afford to lose all of our progress. You’ll have to rebuild the prototype in Dovaruss.”

  “You’re deleting the onsite data?”

  “Of course, but not nearly fast enough. At this rate, we’ll only have twenty percent dumped by the time they’re entering the complex. We need another solution. If they get their hands on any of this technology, there’s no telling how much damage they could do.”

  “Just hold on. Reinforcements are nearly there. We’ll rout them, we just need a little more time to...”

  “John, we’re out of time,” she cut in. “They can’t be allowed to take the city. You know what you have to do.”

  “Zoe… I won’t…”

  “You have to. Glass the city or lose the war, the choice is yours.”

  The doctor steadied his shaking hand. “I won’t lose you like this. I can’t do this without you. We’ll find another way. There’s always another way.”

  “Not this time, John. I love you, more than anything, and that’s why I need you to wipe this city off of the map. We tried so hard to fight this war with compassion, but it isn’t working. You can’t fight a kind war, my love. I see that now. You have to show them. Show humanity your resolve, show them your power, and they’ll have no choice but to bow. Be savage so that the world can be tame.”

  Nightrick felt his throat constrict as he forced the words out. “I love you.”

  The sharp rattle of gunfire continued to get louder and louder through the speaker. “Be strong now. It’s the only thing your people understand.”

  He heard the blast, thunderous, then all at once silent.

  The technician leaned over to study the display for a moment. “Sir, we’ve lost connection with Director Varin.”

  Nightrick lowered his head a touch, looking down at the console.

  Dr. Karich reached out and put his hand on his pupil’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, John. I know that you two… uh…”

  Nightrick pushed onto his feet in a violent lurch, turning to face his mentor. “Go over to the prison and have the guards march every single detainee out into the courtyard. Execute them all. No survivors.”

  “John… you know I can’t…”

  “And you,” said Nightrick, turning towards General Bismuth. “Send word to Command to ready the warheads.”

  “Which warheads, Doctor?”

  “All of them. We’re not just hitting Maqbara. I want Tumbar, Al-Nara, Dorrar, and Beunda reduced to dust. And after that, we’ll hit a new city every hour until I’ve received the unconditional surrender of every rebel running rampant across this desolate planet. They’ll see those blasts around the world, and they’ll realize that no pandemic, no bacteria or virus, will kill them as fast as I will.”

  “John,” said Dr. Karich, looking into his pupil’s red eyes. “You can’t. You’ll
kill millions. Those cities are filled with innocent people.”

  Nightrick spat. “We’re only hitting havens for insurgents. Anyone left in those cities is a tacit supporter of the Uprising and they get what they deserve. Now do as I’ve commanded.”

  Dr. Karich shook his head. “I won’t.”

  “Then get out of my sight. Go back to Dunton and wither in your lab. I’ve no room in my war council for the spineless.”

  “As you wish.”

  Nightrick watched as his old mentor walked out of the command center, never looking back.

  “And what about you?” asked the doctor, turning towards General Bismuth, who was fidgeting with his datacuff.

  “It’s done,” he replied with a heavy sigh. “I hope you know what you’re doing. There’s no going back after this.”

  The doctor nodded, closing his eyes for a moment. He heard the launch sirens blaring around the command center, and he pushed the welling fear within him down beneath the fire burning in his heart. Then came the ice, dulling his senses. He no longer felt the dread; he became it…

  Nightrick opened his eyes, shoving aside the sensors that continued to monitor him in his sleep. Groggy from the serum, he pushed onto his feet and stumbled, catching himself on the cold, stone walls of the dim chamber. He looked up as the door ground open.

  “He’s ready for you,” said the guard standing in the doorway. “Let’s go.”

  Nightrick walked through the door, shuffling his feet back and forth slowly as he tried to steady his vision. His lab coat, stained with dirt, felt damp where he’d sweat through the fabric.

  “Hurry up,” said the guard, pushing the doctor forward. “I don’t have time for your games.”

  Nightrick stumbled, but managed to stay on his feet. The room began to spin a bit less, and he looked around the corridor they were traversing. The purplish light from outside rained down onto the red carpet from the open windows lining the hall. The steady glow of the running lights overhead added a brightness to the space that was rather foreign there on Dusk. He stopped for a moment to puzzle over the winding lines carved into the stone in front of him, before feeling the metal gauntlet press hard into his back again, shoving him forward.