by Bianca D'Arc
Grady Prime had managed to escape the constant monitoring only because the Council had summoned him to a secret session. He knew there was an escort waiting for him outside the door and the personal monitors would reactivate the moment the Council turned off their dampening fields. He didn’t like living under a microscope.
The more his emotions manifested, the more he realized he’d done the right thing in volunteering for the experiment. He liked feeling. He liked having an opinion based not only on dry facts, but also on emotion. He liked being—almost—human. And the effects would only deepen the longer the DNA-altering agent worked through his system, changing him forever on a molecular level.
“We are troubled by the Breed rumors of an angel. The idea that a winged man is out there somewhere seems to inspire unrest in the Breeds. We prefer them to be calm as we continue our studies.” Grady Prime realized how little Councilor Ardarin understood emotion and the Breeds her scientists studied. The unrest, as she described it, was probably a manifestation of hope.
Hope was something Alvians no longer comprehended. They also had no understanding of the finer emotions, the most important of which was love. Grady Prime had experienced fondness and something he suspected was love when he thought of the O’Hara children and the open way they’d always greeted him when he visited their ranch in the wilds of the Waste. He wasn’t sure. The emotion those memories stirred was powerful and touching, inspiring his protective instincts. He hadn’t had a chance to really talk about it with Caleb, but he thought what he felt in those moments was something like a paternal instinct to care for and protect the young.
“Are you certain these rumors refer to the missing Prime Past? It is possible—however unlikely—that members of the secret winged squadron have been observed.”
“True,” Councilor Gildereth admitted. “That is why you will begin your inquiries with his squadron.”
“We know you are under monitoring by Mara 12, and we have made allowances for the monitoring to continue on a limited basis,” Councilor Ardarin continued. “However, we believe at the current rate of DNA assimilation, you will be ready for the next phase of Mara 12’s study by next week. Phase Two of the study involves observing the test subject under conditions similar to their normal working conditions. The other four test subjects will be monitored in the city as they go about their tasks. Your work will have to be monitored from afar as you conduct your investigation. I will personally filter the feeds from your data collection unit and pass on relevant data to Mara 12. Even she is unaware of the Avarel hybridization experiment. That honor was given to Mara Prime alone. It is with him you will work upon reaching the squadron’s secret base of operations. You are not to discuss this case with anyone other than Mara Prime or this Council. You may question the winged squadron at your discretion. They will be instructed to cooperate fully with your investigation.”
“I will most likely need to spend time in the terrain, searching the area around the squadron’s base for signs of trespass. I may also need to track Sinclair Prime Past in remote areas, depending on what I find.”
“We have thought of that and will trust in your discretion. This investigation is of great importance to the Council. You are uniquely qualified—both by your past demonstration of skill and your current status and understanding of what the Past Prime may be experiencing as a test subject. We want you on this mission. We will work with Mara 12. If necessary, we will make allowances for gaps in monitoring while you are in areas that are too remote for reliable signal relay.” The head of the Council had just eased Grady Prime’s mind, but he tried hard not to let it show. He might have a few days free of the constant monitoring. It was a blessing in disguise for a man who had always valued his privacy.
“Mara 12 has four other subjects in the current batch,” Councilor Ardarin said. “If necessary, we can authorize her to select another warrior to test since she wanted a broad range of work specialties represented. One more soldier, more or less, should not be that much of a problem.”
Grady Prime bit his lip to keep from expressing his disgust at such a cavalier attitude. Each and every one of his men was a special being. They were his brothers in arms, his only family. They dedicated their lives to protecting all Alvians, at the Council’s direction. To hear them discussed in such disrespectful terms was both abhorrent and eye opening.
“You have authorization to travel to the winged squadron’s base as soon as Mara 12 clears you. We expect that to be early next week. Please have your gear in order and be ready to leave at any moment. We will have a ship sent from the base to conduct you there, as its location is a closely guarded secret.” Councilor Hearn spoke in a monotonous tone, as if reciting a list. “Fare well on your mission and report directly to the Council as soon as you have any news. Any questions?”
“Just one.” Grady Prime stood strong before the Council, his gaze assessing each and every one of them. “What do you want me to do with Sinclair Past Prime if and when I find him?”
Councilor Gildereth turned to look at him, his expression blank. “I thought that was obvious. You are authorized to kill him.”
A few days later, Grady Prime sat for yet another of the invasive medical examinations Mara 12’s techs and doctors treated the test subjects to on a regular basis. They collected all kinds of samples from him, running a multitude of tests on every imaginable bodily system.
“You’re at eighty-five percent conversion,” the doctor stated as he stared at the instrumentation panel on his diagnostic unit. “We’ve hypothesized that the last few percentages take longer to assimilate. The rapid integration of the new DNA sequences have slowed and will continue to decelerate as propagation nears completion.”
“Then I’ll have less mood swings now that the conversion is almost complete?”
“Most likely, though of course we need more data from yourself and your fellow subjects before we can make any conclusions. But that is the working theory.”
“Excellent.”
“We have notice from the Council that you are to be released from sequestered study when integration reached this level.” The doctor squinted, a faint echo of annoyance. “It would be better to have you here for study until the new DNA sequences are fully integrated. Of course, Council orders come first. Thank you for your cooperation over these past weeks. It has been agreeable to work with you, Grady Prime. I wish you well.”
That was more than Grady Prime had expected from the austere doctor. He stood from the examination table and gave the other man a short bow as he left.
When Grady Prime returned to his quarters, he found a communication from the Council waiting for him. A ship was already on its way to retrieve him for the mission he’d been assigned last week. Word of his status had traveled fast, he thought, as he packed a few small personal items in the bag he’d had ready for days.
He’d thought his days of traveling light and fast had ended when he volunteered for Mara 12’s experiment. He had gladly traded the enjoyable aspects of his job for the chance to finally understand the faint echoes of emotion he’d been subject to over the years. Now he was to have both. He had been given a chance not only to do the job he loved—and he realized now that he truly loved his occupation as a protector and defender of innocent people—but to do it, experiencing the new emotions that had been making his life fuller and more robust over the past weeks.
He felt a sense of hopeful anticipation that made his abdomen bubble with excitement. His blood sang for adventure, and his muscles quivered to be off. Adrenaline rushed through his system even though there was no immediately perceived threat. The only times he’d experienced an adrenaline rush before, he’d been in mortal danger. He’d lived for those times when he felt…something.
Now he was discovering he could feel that same rush of energy without the life or death circumstances. He could feel the same determination to survive—multiplied tenfold—without doing anything but thinking of what was to come. It was a fantastic thing
. Something he wanted to explore further. Unfortunately, that would have to wait. A second communication to his personal unit directed him to meet a specific scout ship at the landing area.
A brisk walk down a maze of corridors and he was in the sunshine. The yellow sun of Earth was a beautiful sight to a man who’d spent decades on a space ship preparing to land and who-knows-how-many years before that in stasis on the same ship, preserved by the ship’s computers for the long journey here.
Grady Prime loved everything about their new home. The wild places called to him and he thought back fondly on the times he’d camped out in the forests and deserts, doing his job. He wondered where the hidden base would be. Would it be in a forest, surrounded by towering trees? Or would it be on the rocky slopes of the highest mountains, covered in snow? Would he be going to a desert? Or would it be a secluded tropical island? He was eager to explore all those possibilities.
There was a spring in his step as he entered the landing area and located the ship. It was a small, nondescript transport, with nothing to differentiate it from any of the others sitting nearby. Grady Prime recognized the pilot leaning against the fuselage, waiting for him. The man had been Sinclair 2 until the disappearance of the Past Prime. Grady Prime supposed he was Sinclair Prime now, though in rare instances rankings didn’t always follow predictable patterns.
“Grady Prime, it is good to see you again.” The other soldier held out his hand for a greeting of equals, signaling his new status in a subtle yet undeniable way. Grady Prime returned the gesture.
“Congratulations on your ascension to Prime.”
“Thank you, though it was not something I had anticipated or needed.” A dark look passed over the new Prime’s face as they both turned toward the open ship. “But we will talk of that as we travel. I’ve been instructed to speak to you as if to one of my men, which is something unexpected, yet welcome.”
Grady Prime waited to speak until the hatch was closed behind them. “I assume the ship is secure?”
“It is. And I assume you were also granted leave to be candid with me about the reason for your new assignment?”
“To a certain extent,” Grady Prime allowed. This new Prime had earned his respect as a young officer when their respective squadrons had trained together. This man, in particular, had saved the lives of several of his men when a malfunction had caused the young soldiers to become trapped in a burning ship. He had darker coloring than most Alvians, with a burnished gold light in his longer-than-regulation hair and a healthy, golden tan to his skin.
“As second in command, I was aware of the genetic modifications for which my former Prime volunteered. I was even tasked by Mara Prime to observe Prime Past after he took the treatment. I know you’ve become part of the follow-up study.”
“Are you observing me as well?” Grady raised one eyebrow as they settled into their seats, and Sinclair Prime started the engine.
The new Prime laughed. “No. I’m through spying on my friends. I hope I can call you that, Grady Prime. I have had great respect for your abilities and your style of leadership for many years.”
“And I have admired your courage since the training mishap,” Grady Prime allowed.
As they rose above the city, Sinclair Prime turned to him. “We are completely unmonitored in this ship. Now that I’m Prime, I find myself in a unique position. I never expected Prime Past to abandon me or the squad. He was our leader and I always thought that if and when he stepped down from that role, he’d still be around to guide me as I took over. I’ve had to fly blind more than I ever anticipated, and I’m afraid the squad has suffered for it.”
Most startling to Grady Prime was the real echo of fear and uncertainty he could hear in the young Prime’s voice. “The Council told me you were created from a combination of Alvian and Avarel DNA. I know from personal experience that soldier stock is more aggressive and has more remnants of feeling than our less combative Alvian brethren. You have an added element in your DNA. I’ve been wondering since I found out about it, what that entails for your emotions.”
Respect showed on the young Prime’s face. “We feel more. It’s not something we encourage and not something we talk about, but it’s been documented. We don’t have real emotions. We feel stronger echoes than even the most aggressive of warrior lines. It’s what made Prime Past volunteer for the first experiment. He told me so himself.”
Grady Prime was silent as he thought through that revelation. He’d liked this young officer for a long time and liked even more the honesty with which he seemed to want to start their closer working relationship. Here was an ally.
“That’s the very reason I chose to participate in the experiment. All my life I felt these echoes of…something. And then as I observed the Breeds interacting, I wanted to understand them. I wanted to feel. Just once, before I die.”
“Are you that certain it will kill you? Prime Past seemed to think it would free him, not kill him.”
“I’m fairly certain it will drive me mad in the end. I’ve made a study of our history and that is the fate of most unmated males. I have little hope I will find a Resonance Mate to keep the madness at bay. Our women have no understanding of emotion and rarely resonate with anyone. I had some small hope about the three women in the study with me, but I’ve touched them all and there was not a single Hum to be heard.”
“What about a human woman?” Sinclair Prime shot him a questioning look and it was not lost on Grady Prime that he used the word the Breeds called themselves. Somehow this soldier had contact with the Breeds and had come to be familiar with their language.
“There are so few. It hardly seems fair to seek among them. After what our people have done to them, it’s unlikely any of them will accept an Alvian—much less a warrior Prime¾as her mate. I had some small hope of it before emotion began to manifest. I understand the impossibility of it now. Most of them will never forgive us for what we’ve done to their planet and to them.”
“The Chief Engineer has a human mate.”
“Callie was the exception to the rule, as was Davin. He was a throwback to begin with. He always had emotions. And Callie is an empath. She understands him in a way few people can.”
“You know them?”
“I’ve known Callie since she was a baby. She is a beautiful woman, inside and out. As is her mother.”
“I didn’t realize you had such close contact with them.”
“I visited the family often as part of Mara 12’s guard. Then in later years, I would go out to drop off supplies and pick up data collected by Mick O’Hara. Sometimes I shared meals with the family. They are a boisterous group with many young who are curious enough to ask impertinent questions.” A smile curved his lips as Grady Prime thought of the O’Hara clan.
“You like them,” Sinclair Prime accused with a smile.
“Yes,” Grady acknowledged. “I feel great affection for them all.” Now there was a statement. Grady Prime still marveled at the fact that he actually could feel things. “They were kind to me when I couldn’t appreciate it and have continued to be so. Caleb O’Hara is helping counsel those of us in Mara 12’s experiment and he has been of great help.”
“You are fortunate to have an ally to aid you in this trial. I was briefed on the experiment before Prime Past took part in the initial experiment. Part of my duty was to observe him, since my normal duties involve routine observation of highly placed Alvian citizens.”
“Then you’re¾”
“Zxerah. The whole squad is. We are part of the ghost squadron, and you are among the very few to know that for certain outside the Council.”
Grady Prime was shocked. “I was going to guess ghost squadron. I’ll admit you’ve taken me by surprise with talk of the Zxerah Brotherhood. I thought they were only a myth from ancient times.”
“I can assure you, we are very real. All of us with wings are Zxerah. No winged soldiers exist beyond the Brotherhood, but there are more Zxerah who are unable to fly. The
Patriarch authorized me to speak freely to you. For some reason, he believes you may hold the key to our future plans.”
“I’ve heard rumors of a ghost squadron. I discounted most of the wilder claims about them. Even the worst of the conspiracy theories never mentioned the Brotherhood. All Zxerah were supposed to have been lost before the migration.”
“Not all,” Sinclair Prime said. “A few survived to pass down the skills. It was the Patriarch who first put forward the idea of adding Avarel DNA to our line. A previous Patriarch had approached Mara Prime Past with the idea two generations ago. He was refused. The current Patriarch reissued the request once we awakened on the ship and the current Mara Prime agreed to try, with approval of the High Council. My squadron and I are the result. Other Zxerah were not given wings to act as a control group. They continue to live in a secret enclave.”
Grady Prime knew the history. The Zxerah were a warrior clan that had lived in a remote mountain region of the home world. They had not had contact with the outside world, but had allowed pilgrims to join their ranks if they proved worthy. They had lived ascetic lives, studying fighting and concealment arts day and night. They had been accredited with feats of skill, strength, endurance, stealth and bravery that were so fantastic as to be unbelievable. Most Alvians thought they had died off before the mass exodus from the home system.
Perhaps not. That there was a Zxerah Patriarch still living was incredible. All modern Alvians were separated by genetic lines, each holding a rank within their genetic line based on age, skill, accomplishments and other factors. Primes were the best of the best of their line. No line had a Patriarch. Such designations had died out as the geneticists took control of the vast majority of Alvian reproduction.
The Zxerah had always been different. If any group could retain their ancient identity, even with the changes wrought to all Alvian DNA, it would be them. Grady Prime also supposed that the Council liked having the Zxerah to use as a secret, deadly and highly skilled weapon. No wonder they let them keep their anonymity.
