Argonaut Affair tw-7

by Simon Hawke

  "My nerves are not in need of steadying, thank you," said Moreau. "I am not nervous. I am not being unreasonable and everything is not under control. When I agreed to join you in this venture, you gave me certain assurances and you are failing to live up to your part of the bargain."

  "And in what way have I failed, Professor?" Drakov said, evenly.

  "In more ways than one," Moreau replied. "You are being careless, Drakov. Your monumental ego is placing this entire project in jeopardy. It seems as if you have gone out of your way to advertise our presence in this time period. Did you think the Special Operations Group would fail to notice? And now taking those temporal agents prisoner and bringing them here-the risk is simply unacceptable. You've told me yourself that these very agents have defeated you several times before and yet it seems you've failed to learn from the experience."

  "Go on," said Drakov, his voice sounding dangerously calm. "You said I've failed to respect our bargain in more ways than one. What else?"

  "You have displayed nothing but callous disregard for my creations," said Moreau. He put his hands on the edge of Drakov's desk and leaned down toward him. "I took my project away from the Special Operations Group because they insisted upon treating my hominoids as some sort of inferior sub-race. I did not devote half my life to this project merely to turn out genetically tailored mongoloids for the Special Operations Group to use as cannon fodder. I set out to create beings specifically designed to perform tasks and survive environmental conditions hostile to ordinary humans. I meant for them to work together, for hominoids and humans to complement each other in order to achieve a more perfect society. Yet fools and paranoid bureaucrats saw them only as slaves, creatures to be inhibited in their development so that they could not become 'competitive' with humans, to have their pain centers blocked and their minds programmed so that they could fight like automatons. I thought you were different. You made me believe that you were sympathetic to my goals, but you are no different from the others. Forty-seven of my hominoids were killed by those two S.O.G. agents when you sent them into that idiotic robot of yours. And for what? What did you accomplish? You killed one and took the other prisoner. Was that worth forty-seven lives?"

  "Are you finished?" Drakov said.

  "No, not quite. I insist that we move the headquarters of this project at once. It has become far too dangerous for us to remain here. I also demand that the prisoners be removed. Get rid of them. Clock them out to some other time period. Their presence here constitutes a serious threat to the project."

  "You insist?" said Drakov. "You demand?" He rose to his feet, towering over the professor. "You arrogant pismire! You dare to dictate terms to me? I was the one who seized the Infiltrator Project from the Special Operations Group. I was the one who took a glorified university professor away from a government sponsored research project and gave him the opportunity to play at being God! Without me, you are nothing!"

  "And without me," Moreau said, his voice barely under control, "you don't have the hominoids."

  "You delude yourself, Professor," Drakov said. "I could easily have compelled your unquestioning obedience through psycho-conditioning from the very start. Santos is quite expert in such matters. I did not do so because I did not wish to risk damaging your creative faculties. However, do not make the mistake of thinking yourself indispensable. Do you think I have been merely sitting on my hands all this time? I have been watching you most carefully. Watching and learning. I am a highly intelligent man, Professor, but I am not a genius, as you are. I could never have created the hominoids myself, but given the creative spark you provided, I could learn to imitate the process. I do not pretend to have acquired all of your expertise, but I believe that I can create hominoids of my own now without any help from you."

  "And you call me arrogant?" said Moreau, sarcastically.

  "Here," said Drakov, picking up a file from the desktop and tossing it to him. "See for yourself."

  "What is this?"

  "Don't you recognize it, Professor? It's a status file on a new generation of hominoid. I have done this one exactly as you have done yours, only I wasn't going to tell you about it quite this early. I was going to save it for a surprise."

  Moreau leafed through the file quickly, his eyes growing wider as he read it. "You can't be serious! This is some sort of joke."

  "It's no joke, Professor, I assure you. By the way, please feel free to point out any errors you feel I might have made. After all, I am only the apprentice while you are the master."

  "I don't believe it!" Moreau said. "You couldn't possibly have done this. It's beyond your scope, beyond all your abilities-"

  "If that is, in fact, the case," said Drakov, "then it should show up in the status file. Does it? It is too early yet to tell how it will perform when it matures, but tell me, how does it look on paper?"

  Moreau was shaking his head slowly. "This is monstrous!" he said. "Creating hominoids such as the titans and the harpies is one thing, but this is precisely what the government officials were most frightened of. This is a species that would compete with humans!"

  "So you acknowledge that I have done it, then?" said Drakov. "That it is not, after all, beyond my capabilities?"

  Moreau moistened his lips. "On paper, I must admit that it looks feasible," he said. "However, you have merely taken the first step. Still, I see that I have seriously underestimated you. I must congratulate you. Obviously, you are not as ignorant of the science of genetic manipulation as I thought. I cannot believe that you have learned all of this from me in so short a time."

  "Now you underestimate yourself, Professor," Drakov said. "You have been an excellent teacher. However, you are quite correct. I am not an entirely unversed layman. Knowledge is power and power is a passion with me. To one who has lived as long as I have, and to whom time poses no barriers, it is not difficult to accumulate vast amounts of knowledge. I have spent years of study in preparation for this."

  "You never told me," said Moreau.

  "You would have been more guarded with me if I had," said Drakov. He poured Moreau a glass of wine. "It is pointless for us to quarrel, Professor. True, I have used you, but then you also have used me. In that sense, our relationship has been quite symbiotic. Look at all we have accomplished. I do not blame you for your concerns, but then you do not see the full scope of my plans. You do not have access to all of the details. I have learned long ago not to put all of my eggs into one basket. True, I have taken risks, but believe me, they have been well within the parameters of acceptability. I can understand your being protective, but you are being too conservative."

  "Conservative?" Moreau snorted. "That's a new one. I have been called mad, but never conservative."

  "That is because the people you have dealt with are little men," said Drakov, "and little men have little vision. I am not a little man, Professor. And my visions are panoramic."

  "And you have really done this?" said Moreau, tapping the file. "This wasn't just an exercise? You have really taken this to the gestation stage?"

  "That one and several others, as well," Drakov said. "But I could never have done it without you. As I have said, you are the genius. I am merely a clever imitator."

  "And where will you go from here?" Moreau asked. "To what use do you intend to put this… this creature?"

  "It shall be brought along in a manner similar to all the others," Drakov said, "only this one shall be allowed to develop to its fullest potential, even beyond what we have achieved with the centaur. And what we have learned here with our little exercise in altering historical scenarios and making myths reality will be applied with this creature and others like it in my own timeline. I will clock it back to the appropriate time period, Professor, and then I will set it free."

  The heavy bolt on the other side of the door was slowly drawn back and the temporal agents were on their feet in an instant. As the door started to open, Delaney grabbed it and pulled back on it hard, yanking the person on the other side i
nto the cell. The others were standing poised to attack, but there was only the one man whom Delaney had knocked to the floor. He held his hands out in front of his face to shield himself from further blows.

  "Don't!" he cried. "I've come to help!"

  "Moreau!" said Hunter.

  Delaney let him up.

  "Here," said the professor, reaching inside his jacket and removing several warp discs. "Take these. Quickly. You must escape at once."

  "What is this?" Hunter said. "I thought you and Drakov were in this thing together. Why are you doing this?"

  "Because I must," Moreau said. "I've been a fool, thinking Drakov would help me prove the worth of my creations, demonstrate what they can be capable of doing, but he has perverted all my work, stolen the fruits of all my labors and now he plans to do something so monstrous that I cannot even imagine what the consequences will be if he is not stopped."

  "How do we know you're telling the truth?" said Steiger.

  "I have given you the means to escape and bring soldiers here to stop him," said Moreau. "You must do it now, immediately, before it is too late."

  "You weren't so concerned when you were helping him create a temporal disruption," Hunter said. "What's so terrible that you suddenly developed a conscience?"

  "It's true," Moreau said, "I was angry, embittered, determined to make them pay for turning my creations into mindless slaves, but this… what he plans is unthinkable. It's madness. I have to stop him somehow."

  "I think you've done enough, Professor," Hunter said. "The Special Operations Group will stop him. You're coming back with me."

  "I don't think so," Steiger said. "I'm afraid we can't let you take him, Hunter."

  "Well, I'm not about to let. vow take him, pilgrim," Hunter said.

  "I guess the truce is over," said Delaney.

  "Moreau's coming with me," said Hunter. "And if I have to take you out to do it, I will."

  "All three of us?" said Steiger.

  "You fools!" Moreau shouted. "There is no time for this!"

  "Get back behind me, Professor," Hunter said, reaching out quickly and pulling Moreau behind him.

  "Don't make us do this, Hunter," said Delaney.

  "Sorry, Finn," said Hunter. "I've got my duty. If you want him, you're going to have to come through me to get him."

  "No one's taking me anywhere!" Moreau said. "Fight like dogs for all I care! I will do what must be done myself!"

  He disappeared.

  "Finn, he's clocked out!" Andre shouted.

  Hunter turned around and Steiger hit him with a flying tackle. They fell to the floor, but Hunter recovered quickly, striking Steiger in the temple with his elbow and throwing him off. Delaney was on him before he had fully regained his feet and he slammed him against the wall. The breath hissed out of Hunter, but he brought his knee up into Delaney's groin and smashed a hard right into his face, then reeled back from Steiger's right cross to his jaw, ducked beneath his left and drove his own fist into Steiger's solar plexus. He followed it up with an uppercut to Steiger's chin and then turned toward Andre just in time to catch a spinning wheel kick to the head. Her heel connected with his temple and he staggered back, bounced off the wall and fell to the floor.

  "Son of a bitch hits hard," said Steiger, rubbing his chin. Delaney was still doubled over, clutching his groin. "You okay, Finn?"

  "I'll live," Delaney managed to reply, though his voice was a bit high.

  "Nice work," Steiger said to Andre. "You two are slowing down," she said. "You should work out more often. What do we do with him now? We can't just leave him here."

  "No, and we'd better get out while we still can," said Steiger. He bent down over Hunter's warp disc and started programming coordinates. "I think we're going to need some help. We'll clock him back with us and turn him over to Curtis. Then we bring the Rangers back with us and hit this place with everything we've got."

  "Major Curtis!" the sentry shouted.

  Curtis came running. From the direction of the river, four people dressed in ancient Greek costume were coming toward him. Two of them supported a third between them, with his arms over their shoulders.

  "Hold your fire!" Curtis shouted.

  "Got a prisoner for you, Major," said Steiger. "Capt. Reese Hunter of the Special Operations Group." They dropped Hunter to the ground at Curtis' feet.

  "Well done," said Curtis. "Mission accomplished?"

  "Not exactly," said Delaney. "We've got a problem. A big one. Hope your boys are ready for some action, Major."

  "The whole thing was a setup," Steiger said. "The opposition got suckered in as badly as we did. Our old friend Drakov is behind it all. He's using the congruent universe as a staging area to launch an attack on our timeline using beings created by genetic manipulation. We've just come from his base. We're going to have to go back and hit it before he has a chance to move his operation. Hit it hard."

  Curtis was all business. "Sgt. Peck, Corporal Willis, take charge of the prisoner. Lt. Nelson, clock out to Galveston and get the strike force mobilized and back here on the double. Pick up your attack coordinates from Col. Steiger." He spoke into his communicator. "Condition Red," he said. "Repeat, Condition Red. We're going through. Unit will assemble at the picket lines on the double. Move it!"

  "Look out!" Peck shouted.

  As they had started to help Hunter to his feet, he had uncorked a haymaker into Willis' midsection and now he and Peck were rolling on the ground, struggling. Nelson aimed her plasma pistol at the pair.

  "Hold it!" Curtis said. "You'll hit Peck."

  Peck had rolled over on top and was trying to pin Hunter to the ground, but Hunter brought a knee up sharply and Peck grunted and went limp on top of him. A second later, Peck wasn't on top of Hunter anymore. Hunter had disappeared and Peck dropped about a foot to the ground onto the space where Hunter had lain.

  "What the-" Nelson said. "He got Peck's warp disc!"

  "Never mind," said Curtis. "It was set for HQ. He'll have a nice surprise when he clocks in. Get some battle gear for these people, move it! You're busted to corporal, Peck. Private Willis, on your feet! Fall in!"

  The Rangers began to clock in at the picket line, ready for battle.

  Moreau ran through the clean room of the laboratory, smashing racks of petri dishes and destroying the equipment. Tears ran down his cheeks as he obliterated his life's work, killing his creations before they ever had a chance at life. He knew that somewhere in here, hidden among the others, had to be the creature Drakov had created and he had to make certain to destroy that one above all others. Once that was done, he intended to kill Drakov, even if at the cost of his own life.

  Nothing mattered anymore except the ending of it all. He had devoted years of painstaking research and experimentation, sacrificed everything to his work, suffered the derision of his colleagues and the insults of petty bureaucrats and government officials who referred to him at best as "the mad professor" and at worst as a monster without a conscience, "the modern Mengele." He had sought to improve the human condition, to broaden the capabilities of the race, and they had vilified him for immorality, accused him of playing God with human reproduction even while they backed his work and used his developmentally stunted creations as if they were android slaves. They had never given him a chance to allow his creations to develop to their full potential, partly out of fear and partly out of a self-serving justification-it was all right to treat them as sub-human so long as they were not fully developed.

  The hominoids were never allowed a chance to stand on equal footing with humans and now they never would receive that chance. It was over. His life's work, wasted. "That will be enough, Moreau!"

  Moreau turned to see Drakov standing at the entrance to the clean room, a laser pistol held in his hand.

  "You're too late," said Moreau. His voice broke. "I've destroyed them all. I began with the gestation room and once I smashed all the artificial wombs, I finished the task here. There is nothing left. Nothing."
/>
  "You're wrong, Professor," Drakov said. "I told you before, I learned long ago not to put all of my eggs into one basket. Did you think this was my only laboratory? You have destroyed all of your own work. My own creations are being kept elsewhere. In fact, the one you were so concerned about has already been born. Even as we speak, it is in its time cycle of maturity. You are the one who is too late, Professor. When the Special Operations Group arrives, they will find three dead temporal agents and the corpse of one of their own people. Your body shall be here, as well. I imagine that Capt. Hunter will receive some sort of posthumous decoration for having single-handedly, at the cost of his own life, eliminated the threat to this timestream. You see, Professor, it all dovetails neatly. What you have done here will only lend credibility to the scene I will create."

  "Only it doesn't dovetail quite so neatly, Nikolai," Moreau said. "You will not have any corpses with which to stage your scene because I have released the prisoners and they are long gone."

  "You've done what?" said Drakov.

  "They'll know now who was responsible for this," Moreau said, "and the only corpse they find here will be yours!"

  He hurled a glass specimen jar at Drakov. Drakov jerked his head aside and fired as the jar smashed against the wall behind him, but his shot went wide and Moreau was on him in a flying leap. The laser flew out of Drakov's grasp and skittered across the floor, beneath one of the counters. They fell to the floor, Moreau on top, his fingers digging into Drakov's throat. Drakov dislodged him effortlessly, rolling him over and reversing their positions.

  "You fool," said Drakov, pinning him down. "I have three times your strength!"

  Moreau's hand clawed for Drakov's eyes. Drakov grabbed it, twisted Moreau's wrist, and broke it. Moreau cried out with pain. Drakov drew back his fist and smashed it into Moreau's face, once, twice, three times-and then the wall exploded.