by RJ Plant
Rian sat beside Kait again, looking at me carefully. I waved my hand for Kaitlyn to continue. Best to get this over with.
Lost in thought, she missed the gesture.
“Go on then, Kaitie,” Rian said.
“Right,” she said, shaking off whatever thoughts had been crowding her mind. “So, generally speaking, there isn’t much special or abnormal about a chimera and there are multiple types. In their first trial run Ylva and Kenna found that subjects with dispermic chimerism tended to survive longer than the other subjects.”
“Dispermic chimerism?” I said.
She made a small frustrated sound. “It’s basically when one fraternal twin eats the other in the womb. Or absorbs it,” she said, miming the process, a warped game of charades.
“So,” she continued, “when the second trial ran in ’76, the focus shifted from increasing brain function to trying to find a way to pinpoint and separate the two different DNA types within a dispermic chimera. According to their notes, this led to schizophrenic tendencies in the subjects. Then death quickly after. It’s hard to make out some of the notes, but it looks like it wasn’t until the tail end of the third run that Kenna and Ylva were able to separate the different DNA types.”
“To what end?” Rian asked.
“The separation allowed them to synthesize two unique genomes to completion. Well, as complete as two genomes can be inside a single host. Two complete genomes, one body.”
I dropped my hand when I realized that I’d started to bring it to my head. Rian reached out a long arm and patted me on the knee. That lost kid feeling flooded back.
“Who is Ylva?” I said, barely a whisper and more to myself … or maybe more to Conor. I could feel him listening, pushing, trying to be heard.
“Who is Ylva?” It was Conor this time, his words finally breaking through my lips, quieter even than when I’d spoken them.
Kaitlyn shivered and rubbed her arms.
Rian looked at me as we sat in silence. I pushed down hard, trying to contain Conor, but he was so close, able to bypass the meds somehow. I breathed steadily, in and out, in and out, until Conor was quiet again. Rian must have seen or sensed the change. He resumed the conversation.
“I didn’t think the human genome had been fully sequenced by that time.”
“I’d be inclined to agree, but obviously that’s not the case,” Kaitlyn said, gesturing at me. “Not only did Kenna and Ylva somehow sequence the entire genome, they decoded the purpose of at least each gene, if not all the junk DNA as well. If those two could synthesize the missing components in a genome, they could …”
Kaitlyn went away in her own mind again. She let out a sort of breathy laugh and looked at me.
“Amazing,” she said.
“Thank you?”
“What?” Kaitlyn said, blinking slowly. “Oh, no. The implications are amazing. If you could, essentially, build a person, then why not add in some special features. The possibilities are …”
She laughed again.
“We’ve obviously found the mad scientist in the family,” I said. “What does this have to do with Kazic?”
“Like I said, Kazic sort of piggybacks on Leif. It’s focused on using DNA sequencing based on Kenna and Ylva’s schematic to create kind of a personalized vaccine for different high-mortality viruses—rabies, Ebola, any number of hemorrhagic fever viruses.”
“You created one?” I asked.
“Yes and no. I produced a polyvalent antiserum that might work, but we’re talking about years of research, testing, trials comparing various virus strains to current antiserum samples …” Kaitlyn shook her head. “To start, the GDI base here doesn’t have a BSL-4 lab, which means no safe way to work with hot viruses.”
“BSL-4?” I asked.
“It’s the highest biosafety level.”
“And why did you reopen the Kazic project?” Rian asked.
“I don’t remember having even done it, much less why,” Kaitlyn said.
“You kept the data?” I asked.
“The data and antiserum both. It’s standard procedure. The virus samples hadn’t even been sent by the time the project was shut down, most likely because of insufficient safety equipment.” Kait shrugged. “And now the data is gone, along with the antiserum.”
Rian was staring intently at the folder. Not its contents. A name written on the folder itself.
“Marco Esposito,” he said.
The name seemed familiar, though I couldn’t place it. Conor struggled under the surface again.
“Dr. Esposito oversees all the research departments for GDI. The man is a biogenetics genius,” Kaitlyn said. “I’m sure he issued Barlow the assignment. Take some of the workload off the Stockholm base, maybe.”
“I think I’m starting to piece together why you’re such a liability,” I said. “And they’ve already gotten your partner. You can’t go into work tomorrow.”
“If I don’t, they’ll know something is wrong.”
“That’s why I’m working to get Felix in sooner rather than later,” Rian said.
“Until I’m in, you’re not safe there,” I said.
Kaitlyn frowned. “I can’t not show up. You’ll just have to go in with me tomorrow. Unofficially.”
“That sounds worse than you skipping a day,” I said.
“If it’s the best we can do for now…” Rian said.
I nodded. Sure, it might be a good enough solution for now, but it still wasn’t a good idea. I didn’t have the time or energy to fight Rian on this, though. I needed to get back downstairs, take another round of meds.
*****
28 October 2042, Dublin, United Irish Republic
I sat on a white vinyl-covered chair with a metal frame. The folding armrests were white plastic planks for the patient to lay his or her arm on when giving blood.
My left arm was out, Kaitlyn filling up a vacutainer tube of the dark red syrupy stuff to run more tests. I barely felt it as she popped one tube out to replace it with another. Six in all.
The room was large, open. Everything was white or clear or the shining silver of metal. Hardly an item breaking the pattern other than Kaitlyn and myself. The vaulted ceiling further lent the appearance of Herculean size to the room. One advantage her lab had, for Kaitlyn’s sake, was its location just two stories above the ground. The north-facing wall was all windows.
“That should hold us for now,” Kaitlyn said. She began labeling each tube with barcoded stickers.
“What are you going to do with it?” I asked.
She finished labeling before answering me. “Study it,” she murmured. Every time she looked at me now it was with curiosity. Maybe a little fear.
She walked to the far end of the room, placed two of the tubes in a centrifuge. Against the wall nearest her was a lunchbox-sized black box that opened from the top. She opened it, carefully placed the remaining tubes inside.
Her shoulders were pulled back under her lab coat, her posture more confident here than it had been in her flat.
I got up from the chair but kept my distance, let her work. The south wall was lined with two-tier cabinets all the way to the door. Everything had that sterile cleanness about it—hospitalesque and prepackaged for your pleasure.
There were six tables in the room, each roughly four by ten. I started pulling out the drawers of the tables as I passed. I found a few fun utensils in one, but nothing worth any real note.
“What are you looking for?” Kaitlyn asked.
I started to answer but was cut short, already moving to put myself between Kaitlyn and the man walking into the room.
He was a handsome guy, if not particularly tall or broad. He didn’t look like a fighter. Dark hair styled neat, gelled close to his head. His eyes were somehow hyper-focused and bored simultaneously. Though his mouth wasn’t much more than a straight slash across his face, it seemed to me he was smirking, a condescending expression that might charm the opposite sex.
“Agen
t Bernard,” Kaitlyn said. She stepped around me and shook Bernard’s hand.
“Dr. Henderson. A pleasure. And …” Bernard trailed off, his hand out to me.
“Reynard Evans.” I let him direct the handshake. His was solid, unflinching, and I made mine the same. His palm felt rough, but his hand looked manicured.
“Sean Bernard, Agent in Charge. I believe it’s you I’m here for, actually. Dr. Henderson, you won’t mind if I steal him away for a few moments?”
Kaitlyn looked at me before answering. I was a bit surprised he even knew I was here. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t have been. I nodded and mouthed “lock down” to Kaitlyn. She returned her attention to Bernard.
“I’ll need him back for a few more tests, but for now …” She shooed us away with her hand.
The door closed behind us with a suctioning sound. I followed Bernard down the hall. The corridor led us left, deeper into the building. Another left took us into Bernard’s office. It was minimalist. A desk, two chairs, a computer.
So, not Bernard’s office. A rollover workspace for the higher-ups who passed through and needed a room.
“I’m afraid I don’t really know who you are,” I said.
Bernard smiled, gestured for me to sit. I stood.
He sighed, shrugged, slowly walked the perimeter of the room. He kept his eyes trained on me.
“But I know you, Mr. Quinn. I wasn’t expecting you for another few days, but I think we’re prepared enough to move forward now. Do you know why you’re here?”
So much for secret infiltration. My name might have been well known, but my face was not. So how did Bernard know me?
“I’d say to make ends meet, but that’s not right, is it?”
Bernard nodded like I’d said something smart. He opened a drawer and slid a folder across the desk to me. I opened it.
“It’s good of you to drop the pretense,” he said, smiling, almost excited. “You’re here because I want you to be.”
He resumed circling the room as I flipped through the folder, not particularly impressed with the directive.
“Initiation operation?” I said, more than a little sarcastically. “Why do you want Kaitlyn terminated?”
“Dr. Henderson has served a very specific purpose. Now that you’re here, I fear she’ll become less cooperative if she were to remain in GDI’s employ. She may not want to go in the same direction GDI is going.”
“And what direction is that?”
Another smile. “It’s a shame, really. The young doctor is quite talented.”
“You hired Kaitlyn to get to me,” I said. Bernard laughed, shook his head.
“GDI hired Dr. Henderson because she’s good at what she does. Once I realized her connection to you, well …” He raised his arms, indicating the scene playing out. “Here we are. Attempting to infiltrate GDI was not a good plan on your part, but it helped me a great deal. I had to know that you were … what I expected.”
“The blood work,” I said.
“Dr. Henderson may have tried to cover for you, but she has been very closely monitored these past few months.”
“She found something when she reopened Kazic.”
Bernard waved the concern away with a flick of his hand but said nothing.
“Why target her if you already have what you want?”
“Because I don’t have everything I want,” he said as something sharp hit my neck, a stinging, spreading cold. The cold quickly vanished.
“But I will.” His words were a whispered promise. An anticipated certainty.
Pain. Whole body flooded with pain. Internal fire.
Hands gripping carpet.
Took the … medic—
9
28 October 2042, Dublin, United Irish Republic
My limbs were heavy. I wiggled my toes. They seemed to work fine. There was a heaviness to my legs that kept me from moving much, from standing at all. Hell, the first thing I should have done was open my eyes. I couldn’t hear anyone else in the room, so I peeled my lids open and took stock.
I could tell some time had passed, just not how much. I was in Bernard’s office, slumped in a chair. Last I remembered, Felix was standing by the door. And then …
That’s all she wrote.
I put a hand to my neck, just under my ear. There was a bandage there. I ran my fingertips across the skin above the bandage and found small bumps. Though I was thankful this didn’t seem to be a case of date rape, I was more than a bit confused.
And angry, I think. I felt like I should feel angry and probably was, but the new sensations confused the way in which I classified my emotions.
I was pretty sure I was angry.
I heard the door open behind me. Bernard appeared and sat behind his desk.
“Conor Quinn” he said, smiling. “The banished brother. How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been drugged,” I said.
My voice was rough from disuse, my mouth dry, my head fuzzy. A question circled lazily in my head but dissipated before I could understand it.
My head started to pound. It felt strange, having a body to operate again, like flailing around in clothes that were too big. My skin suit was not cooperating. I flexed everything, trying to get the hang of movement again. I tapped my feet, scratched, poked, and prodded flesh.
I could feel again.
He shrugged, more a rolling forward of one shoulder. He smiled with his mouth, but his eyes were appraising. “How are you feeling healthwise?” The question arose again. This time I was able to get a lock on it. How do you about know me?
Instead what came out was, “Am I going to need to file a complaint with HR? What did you do?”
“Among other things, we fitted you with a C-chip,” Bernard pushed the file on his desk toward me, his eyes never leaving my face. The result was creepy on an almost intimate level. “As long as you carry out the directive in this file, the chip is of no concern.”
“And the mysterious other things?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
I maneuvered the file into my lap. Flipping through its contents was a struggle I barely managed. I stopped on a black and white of a woman who looked to be in her late twenties—but was actually thirty, if I remembered correctly, and why wouldn’t I since I’d had all the time in the world and nothing to do—with sunglasses, a bomber jacket, and her hair tied back. She had a strong chin and high cheekbones. Freckles spread across her face and narrow nose.
I turned the photo over to look at the sheet behind it. Information I already knew covered the page: where she lived, with whom she was affiliated, her role at GDI, etc. The next page held a sheet full of redacted information, black lines everywhere.
The actual operation was on the final page. Bernard and Co. wanted me to take Kaitlyn to Dr. Marco Esposito at GDI’s Stockholm base. After Esposito got what he needed, I was to terminate Kaitlyn and go to the southeast Stateside office for debriefing. GDI HQ. Then reassignment. There was a photo of the Stockholm facility and an address—which was public knowledge, just as it was for the building I was sitting in now.
It was Esposito who made the medication for Felix. He was one of the reasons I’d been locked up for all these years. Rian never took us back to Esposito after that first time, which is why Felix hadn’t remembered him. But that face and name were burned into my mind.
“Esposito will be there.” The words couldn’t be mistaken as a question. My eyes rose to meet Bernard’s.
“Have a bone to pick, do you?” Bernard asked. Between one breath and the next, Bernard’s pretense of charm faded. His expression became blank—not unreadable, just empty. “He’s not your concern. You only need to worry about Dr. Henderson.”
“And if I don’t go along with this?”
Bernard smiled and this time his whole face lit up in greedy anticipation. He pulled what looked like a key fob from a desk drawer. He pressed the button on it.
I could feel a tingling in every muscle. The tingling
turned into spasms, rocking my body so hard I fell to the floor. I vomited, then rolled onto my back.
“The fuck was that?” I choked out, still shaking.
“That is what happens when you don’t follow the directive,” Bernard said, his voice a little breathier than I felt the situation warranted.
He came out from behind his desk and stood over me. His gaze seemed unfocused, like he wasn’t completely present. “You’ll need this.” He dropped a warrant card on my heaving chest. “Once you’ve proven you can handle this assignment, you’ll be ready to carry out your primary objective. And please remember, leave Dr. Esposito alone.”
With that, Bernard left. At least he’d said please.
When my muscles finally calmed down, I sat up and looked at the vomit on the floor.
“Ah, Felix,” I whispered. “What the hell have you gotten us into, you eejit?”
I left the room and stumbled back toward Kaitlyn’s lab. My feet felt like anvils and trying to make my ankles move properly was no easy task. I finally stopped in the hallway and tested every kind of movement I could think of. I fell … several times. I took a deep breath—which didn’t feel great—and opened the door to the lab. Or tried to. Lock down, Felix had told her.
I banged on the door and shouted Kaitlyn’s name. The door opened on a face that looked more angry than worried.
“Felix, what the hell,” Kaitlyn said. “It’s after five. What did Bernard want with you?”
I held up the warrant card. “Rian’s calls must have done some good. I’m in.”
Kaitlyn tilted her head. That sense of comfort in her lab with Felix earlier had faded.
“What happened to your neck?”
I shrugged (I think), put a hand to my neck, and ran my fingertips over the bandage until I found an edge. I yanked it off, along with a few little hairs, which was not the happiest feeling, but still better than the nothing I was used to.
“What now?” she asked, looking at me warily.
“We go to Stockholm.”
