by LC Champlin
But how reliable would the Dalits prove? If he desired to make full use of them, he required a headquarters and support staff. He could take over LOGOS with its facilities. Crevan and Cheel had fallen. Albin and the others held Lexa captive.
Nathan straightened, the world moving at quarter speed. A wolf grin sliced ear to ear. The eyes of Fenrir opened, shimmering like blood flowing over gold.
The screens around him showed images of the kneeling Dalits. Behind him and in holding pens in the Mercury Technologies building waited Peace Monitors to do his bidding.
Obedience.
Loyalty.
Domination.
Isn’t that what he wanted? To evolve, attack, and dominate? LOGOS had spoken the truth when they said the plan would benefit humanity. It would stop wars, crime, hatred. A new age of peace and prosperity would dawn. Giving up freedom for security seemed a small price to pay. Was that not every man’s duty, to make life better?
A better place to go to hell from . . .
And what if he did? What if he acted as the benevolent tyrant?
He closed his eyes. On the other hand, what if he did not? The government might use it as the next Project MKUltra, the CIA mind-control experiment the creatures of the D.C. Swamp had always dreamed of. If other countries gained the technology, they would use it to dominate their people. Could anyone trust another person again? However, if he destroyed the network and activated an auto-destruct in each person’s brain, it might leave them lobotomized at best or in a persistent vegetative state at worst.
Perhaps pulling the plug—killing them—would prove the best option. But could he bring himself to do it? Now that he had the ability to stop this in a non-violent way, would he play God by putting them out of their misery? I am no Dr. Kevorkian or Mengele. I am no abortionist. Nor am I a Mao, Stalin, Che, or Castro.
Like it or not, LOGOS had opened Pandora’s box. The technology existed, just as nuclear warfare existed. From now on, humanity would have to live with its curse—and its blessing.
He turned to Albin, who had a restraining hand on Amanda’s shoulder. The blue glacial gaze bored into Nathan. The cold soothed the fever heat of decision. It quieted the static and voices. “Albin. Advice.”
“What means, sir?”
“No MKUltra. No playing God.”
Albin adjusted his glasses with thumb and ring finger. “We cannot undo what has been done. We may only seek to mitigate the damage. What does Janine say?”
At his words, the screen awoke. Janine blinked at the sudden change of camera footage. “What—never mind. Did you get control of them?”
Nathan nodded.
“Good.” She took a breath and wet her lips. “Nathan. What do you think you should do?” Her steady, encouraging tone implied she knew what he should do—and so did he.
The others regarded him with expectation and perhaps . . . fear. Even Josephine remained silent.
“The choice is yours, sir.” Albin regarded his friend with calm assurance.
“Indeed it is.” Shoulders square, Nathan turned back to the console. “God has brought me here for a reason.”
Chapter 98
Strike Through Kings
Never Hold Us Down – Blues Saraceno
Albin’s pulse throbbed in his temples. What route had Mr. Serebus chosen? Trust began to regrow, but even at the best of times, Albin would hold his breath awaiting a decision of this magnitude.
Janine, however, wore the slight smile of a coach watching her athlete follow instructions and perform as impressively as expected. Albin and Mr. Serebus could call one another blood brothers, but Janine and her husband composed one flesh.
Mr. Serebus navigated the controls with the speed of one accustomed to the technology. On the screen, the cannibals in the Broncos Sports Authority Field shifted their alignment. Now rather than standing in rows, they formed a word: LOGOS.
As for the cannibals outside the arena in Colorado Springs, they made a line down the road. They broke into their bizarre, ground-covering lope. Their target, Mercury International Technologies.
The doors to the Peace Monitors’ holding areas opened. The cannibals poured into the hall. Cameras showed them moving to face the guards who stormed toward the control room.
Had Mr. Serebus chosen wisely? It proved too early to ascertain.
On one of the screens appeared Buck. She charged down a hall, presumably toward an exit. Mr. Serebus glanced at it.
A squad of four Peace Monitors halted in their course. They whipped about like hounds hearing a hunting horn. Then they loped across three camera views to emerge in the screen Buck occupied.
The last Red Devil Goat fired upon them. However, their armor and momentum defeated her offensive. They fell upon her like hell-spawned beasts.
A smirk of satisfaction grew on Mr. Serebus’s face even though he appeared to pay no heed to the attack.
“Josephine,” he began, offhanded, “call the police. And the DHS and Air Force if you can get through.” Did he plan to aid them, or to lead them into an ambush?
As if hearing his attorney’s thoughts, Mr. Serebus turned to look over his shoulder at him. Steadfast determination and righteous purpose radiated from him.
Albin’s muscles relaxed. He removed his hand from Amanda’s shoulder but kept a wary eye upon Lexa. The shattered forearm incapacitated her.
Cannibals began to arrive in the yard of the Mercury Technologies building. They formed rows and columns. They spelled out a word: Truth. Albin wore a half smile. The next word would be—here.
Behrmann gave a short laugh when they formed the phrase.
Eyes on his work, Mr. Serebus remarked, “It worked once. It should work again.”
Albin produced his mobile from his pocket. He selected the number Director Washington had given him. It rang once, twice, three times—“Director Washington here.”
Brows raised in wonder, he responded, “This is Albin Conrad. I have Mr. Serebus here. He desires a word with you.”
“Why am I not surprised you and Serebus have reunited? Well, what does he want? Has he found the information yet?”
“I’m placing you on speakerphone, Director. He will answer those questions himself.”
“Serebus—”
“I want my plea deal reinstated,” the man in question shot over his shoulder.
“Reinstated? It was never revoked.”
He fell still and silent. Then his spine straightened and his shoulders relaxed as if the weight of two anchors lifted from them. “Is that so. Special Agent Greg Saito of the FBI told me differently.”
“I told you before, all leads are being investigated. That includes certain members of the FBI and other agencies. Not by the DHS, per se, but they are being investigated.”
Mr. Serebus exchanged a glance of suspicion with Albin. The attorney replied with a slight shrug.
“Then in answer to your question, I have upheld my end of the plea deal. You will have everything you wanted and more, so long as you keep your end of the deal. Actually,” he added with a cunning smile, “I want complete immunity for myself and those in my employ. Retroactive immunity for, say, the last eight years.” So the file snooping did worry him.
“We’re going to drop the charges against you already if you cooperate. As for your employees—”
“Complete immunity. For everything that I and they have done for the last eight years. Don’t worry, we haven’t kidnapped, murdered, or raped anyone. I simply want to cover my bases. It’s business. You understand.
“Also, Victor Anthony Birk has been quite cooperative. I want a plea deal for him that results in . . . little to no prison time. The recording I made of his confession is inadmissible in court anyway, as you know.”
A pause followed. “We will negotiate all that.”
“To negotiate that, you would need as much leverage as I have. Considering my current position, I don’t believe you qualify. Not that t
he government cares, but hundreds of thousands of lives hang in the balance.” Mr. Serebus glared at the screen with its footage of cannibals across the country in lieu of glowering at Director Washington. “I know who’s behind this. I know the web of corruption is deep and wide. It’s like a dragnet, and it’s catching some very large whales. Compared to that, my people and I are small fry. We’re practically plankton.” His smile and stance radiated triumph.
“I do not have the authority, but—”
“Then get me someone who does. The head of the DOJ, the president, the first lady, or whoever is in charge of making deals to save the country. You people fail to grasp the import of what I’ve achieved. If you’re in doubt, I will show you. Then I expect an answer in the affirmative.”
“Very well.”
Many of the cannibals in Colorado Spring’s streets formed up in ranks before the police station. They lay on the ground with ankles crossed, arms out with palms up, and heads turned away from the building. Screens showed similar occurrences in other cities.
“Tell the police not to harm them,” Mr. Serebus ordered Behrmann and Washington.
A few moments later, SWAT officers emerged from the station. They approached the nearest row. The cannibals offered no resistance as the officers secured wrists and ankles with zip-tie riot cuffs.
“Do you believe me now?” Mr. Serebus enquired of the Director.
“I’ve been authorized to accept your terms. Where are you?”
Behrmann completed her call with authorities. “The police say they’re already in route and that we should stay where we are.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Mr. Serebus replied to Washington. “I’ll speak with you later.”
The reporter regarded the screens. “Nathan, what you said—does this mean you’re not keeping control of the affected?”
Chapter 99
Do Justice and Love Mercy
Vice & Virtue – Jimmy Needham
Taking a breath, Taylor stepped forward. “Nathan, I . . .” She rubbed her arm in unease.
“Yes, Taylor?” Mr. Serebus prompted, his tone as gentle as if he spoke to his son.
“I know the affected have killed people and are dangerous, but they’re still people inside.” She looked up at him, pleading. “Don’t you prove that yourself? You have th-the serum in you. Your eyes are even turning red, but you’re a person.” Indeed, flecks of red and gold speckled his dark irises.
A sad smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Thank you, Taylor. God gave us free will. Yes, free will is why evil exists in the world, but without it, love would not exist. To love is to choose. I cannot take free will from humankind.”
The girls relaxed in relief.
“But,” Albin began, “someone else will take the technology.” Not that he wished Mr. Serebus to take permanent control, of course, but at times one must settle for lesser evils.
“True. Pandora’s box is open. The technology is in the world to stay, as are nuclear bombs and biological warfare. But”—his white teeth flashed in a grin—“the best time to buy is when there’s blood in the streets.”
Albin returned a cool smile. “Never let a crisis go to waste. And there are other methods to achieve mind control.”
“Precisely. Cults, universities, society in general—”
From her screen, Janine opined, “I prefer the cannibals. They’re easier to stop and easier to recognize.”
Shoulders drooping a fraction, Mr. Serebus turned back to the console. “I thought I would have secured obedience, loyalty, and domination with the cannibal contagion. While I knew the first would come, and domination with it, neither equal loyalty. A choice must exist for loyalty. And I value loyalty above all else.” With these words, he looked from Albin to Janine. Relief smoothed his features.
Then the calculating light of the experienced negotiator glinted in his eyes. “Janine, are Badal and Mikhail with you?
She laughed. “Of course. How do you think I was able to help you with that back door? They volunteered their services, and as a favor to me, my father allowed them. He thought using your former employees to further LOGOS’s plan was yet another way to twist the knife.”
“Good. I’ll need them.”
“I should also thank Dr. Lexa Birk. If not for her half-witting assistance and delusions of grandeur, we all wouldn’t have been able to access the system like we did. She thought she could use you to take out—” She looked away for a moment. “To gain control of LOGOS. I encouraged her. You there, Lexa, how does it feel to be a pawn? Did you really think I’d turn against my true family?” Her sparkling laugh filled the room.
++++++++++++
Time to deal with my demons.
Fenrir’s red-gold eyes flared. Let the hunt begin.
The amplified serum facilitated healing. It improved brain function and rebuilt dead nerves. Could not the rudimentary version do a rudimentary job of the same?
“Nathan!” A small voice pried into his thoughts. Denver. “Look, the police and Army are coming!”
On the monitor with the satellite view of the Mercury building—heavy troop-carrier vehicles as well as patrol cars with lights flashing rolled down the Garden of the Gods Road. As the authorities approached, the Dalits followed Nathan’s orders: they lay on the ground with ankles crossed and arms out. Hopefully this would prevent the cops and military from using them for target practice.
A way must exist to save the infected victims. Could he control the tissue regeneration and neural regrowth, or did it function independently? Nothing appeared in the immediate controls to suggest—Wait.
He looked over at his wife’s screen. “Janine, please bring Badal over.”
She stepped back, and a moment later, the Indian appeared. “Hey.” He licked his dry lips. “What can I do, Nathan?”
“Hello, Badal. We need to heal the victims’ frontal lobes.”
“Um, we might just have to wait. If we can shut them down, more qualified researchers can—”
“We need to do this now, while they’re logged in. I can’t leave them connected to the network. If I do, anyone could waltz in and take control of them, including the government.” That should help convince him.
“I-I guess.” But Badal looked uncertain.
“Where’s Mikhail?”
“I’m here.” The hardware engineer pushed Badal aside a few inches to share the frame. “I think there’s a possibility. We give them instructions to stop degrading the brain, then to start regenerating neural tissue.”
“It won’t be fast,” Badal cautioned.
Nathan drummed his fingers on the console. “In the meantime, is there anything we can do to help these people? You two are familiar with the data.”
“Possibly.” Frowning, Mikhail looked away. “But if you leave the neural networks in their brains, you risk them being able to be controlled. Making them hack-proof, so to speak, is beyond my knowledge.”
“I know.” The console screens showed the Dalits in their lines. And words. Truth here. The truth would set them free. “If we start the process, it should continue even after I shut down the system. Yes, the victims will need to be rounded up and monitored as their brain tissue regrows, and then possibly undergo therapy, but the alternative isn’t bright.”
Albin put in, “No perfect solution exists.”
“True. Even with the neural regeneration, it won’t rebuild memories. They’ll awaken like stroke or amnesia victims, possibly. But—”
“But,” Janine cut him off, “at least they’ll awaken.”
Nathan took a deep breath. His lungs barely itched at all now. He could not play God and say that because they suffered brain damage they should die. “We’ll have to make do. All cures come too late for some people.” Often for tens of millions of people.
Scanning the screens, Josephine advised, “You need to make this fast. The government’s not going to waste time once it gets here.”
> Nathan turned back to the engineers. “Badal, Mikhail, I’ll need your help.”
“You got it, buddy!” The Indian gave him a double thumbs-up.
“It’s starting to feel like a normal work day at Arete,” Mikhail quipped, forcing a smile.
He would need more than his people, though. “I’ll also require your expertise, Lexa.” She thus far had done a commendable job of blending into the wall. “Consider it a way of lessening your prison sentence. The authorities will work with you. Trust me.” Smirk.
She glared murder at him but remained silent. Nathan gestured to the Peace Monitors. Hissing, they advanced on her.
Chapter 100
Despised Things
Feel Invincible – Skillet
“No! Don’t let them—” Already against the wall, Lexa Birk had no route to escape her creations. Terror splintered her mask of control. “Stop them! I’m not going to become one of those deranged monsters.”
The Dalits surrounded her, leaning to within inches of her face. Only the network’s power prevented them from tearing her throat out. Their hunger and anger cried at the edge of Nathan’s mind.
Leaving the console, he crossed to them. They parted as he approached her. “Are you sure?” A Dalit at his left provided a ready mouth to illustrate the threat. He grabbed the infected bastard by the back of the helmet and pushed the open jaws toward Lexa. Nose wrinkling, the minion snapped his teeth. Oil hung in ropes from his lips.
The captured LOGOS administrator squeezed her eyes closed as she twisted away. The wall stopped her escape. “All right! What do you want me to do?” A coward.
“Have the guards surrender before they attack the authorities. Or us.”
She nodded.
The Peace Monitors and Nathan escorted her to the intercom mic. “Remember,” he advised, “if you turn on me, you will soon turn into one of these.” He patted the nearest contagion sufferer on the shoulder. The fellow hissed.
