Nobility

by Dana Lyons

  Lazar is here. He’s up to something.

  Rhys interjected, When is he not up to something?

  Are you there, bro?

  Nowhere else to be, Rhys responded.

  When are you coming in? she asked.

  Tomorrow morning, right after the autopsy.

  Lazar says take a blood sample from the heart.

  For?

  Antibodies testing.

  Silence stretched until Simon added, Look, I hate to bring up the 800-pound gorilla in the room, but we didn’t finish discussing the potential ‘other’ vials out there.

  A horrific scene of seven billion lives being infected and the human race dying out formed in Dreya’s mind. She rushed to add, Let’s not jump to conclusions or assumptions yet. We don't even know if there was anything in the one vial.

  Their emotions flooded her mind, matching hers. Fear, anger, incredulous disbelief.

  We wait to see what Lazar discovers, she ordered.

  Lazar brought meals and they ate quietly. Unlike their usual banter-filled gatherings when eating together, chatter tonight was as sterile as their environment.

  Good night. I miss you all already.

  Sleep eluded her. Being used to living with three men and sleeping with a dog, a cat, and a bird, the sanitary environment irritated her. She forced her mind to relax, but the day had left her with too many questions unanswered.

  What is this contagion? Is Nobility protecting me? Who’s behind this? What’s Lazar up to?

  Finally, exhaustion overtook her and she slept, but her dreams were hot, viral, and filled with flames.

  She woke slowly, stretched and looked about. Rhys was in her outer cubicle and had set a tall latte in her airlock. “Good morning.” He backed out and the cubicle sealed. Salivating, she released the airlock and inhaled the rich scent of morning coffee.

  He did the same for Quinn and retreated to his cell. In utter isolation, they gazed at each other through the glass.

  I think I’m over this already, Quinn complained.

  She grinned, Missing your morning run around the compound?

  Yes, they both answered.

  Lazar came in with their breakfast. “I brought you each three trays to accommodate your hyper metabolisms.” After they ate, he took the trays away and returned. “I have test results to report.”

  She glanced at Rhys and Quinn. Like them, she set her latte down and faced Lazar. He took his time and his face was so serious, she knew it wasn’t good. Pressure built in her chest as she held her breath.

  “There was a virus in the vial.”

  She exhaled forcefully through pursed lips. “Dammit.” Rhys and Quinn both stared at her intently, their emotions and fear blasting her. Not worried for herself, she reminded them, Stay calm, we’re all going to be okay.

  As if following her thoughts, Lazar’s expression shifted from bad to … astonished? She braced herself.

  “And you all have the antibodies,” he announced. He clamped his lips together and shifted his gaze from one to the other.

  She pulled back with shock and glanced at Rhys. “How did Rhys get antibodies?”

  “Exactly,” Lazar said softly. “How did Rhys get antibodies when he wasn’t exposed?”

  The door opened and Simon walked in. He handed a small ice chest to Lazar. “Harper’s samples. I included an antibodies blood sample in my autopsy labs, but I brought you the entire heart.” He eyed Lazar up and down. “Heart blood. You going ghoulish on us, Doc?” Abruptly, he recognized the shock on their faces. “What’d I miss?”

  Dreya cleared her throat. “Bad news is, there was a virus in the vial. Next news is, Quinn, Rhys, and I have antibodies to that virus.”

  Simon cocked his head as if waiting to hear more. When no one spoke, he gazed off until he said, “There’s only one reason. Nobility.”

  Lazar grinned. “Precisely my thoughts. Do you think that astonishing?”

  “Not at all. Hell, Nobility is refining me. I feel it every day,” Simon said. “Kinda like Mother Nature performing the ultimate goal—preservation of the species, only on steroids.”

  “But how did Rhys’ Nobility learn about the virus?” Quinn asked.

  “With any hyper-state, there’s a higher rate of connectivity to quantum mechanics,” Lazar answered. “Call it spooky actions at a distance, Mother Nature’s Wisdom, or quantum entanglement, but Rhys’ Nobility received information about the biological threat from yours and Dreya’s Nobility and prepared a pre-emptive strike. I expect Simon has the antibodies also in spite of his scant exposure.”

  “So, what is this thing?” Simon asked.

  “I believe it’s a rather well-crafted species killer.”

  Everyone froze. Dreya wanted to blurt out, “You’re kidding, right?” but his face reads declared he spoke the truth. She remembered their discussion last night about more vials being out there. “Oh, no. Do we know if other vials were delivered?”

  “If other vials were dispersed, we don't know it yet. Also, none of those in quarantine are exhibiting symptoms … so far,” Lazar answered. He paused and licked his lips. It was a tell of someone hesitant to proceed—not a behavior she’d expect from him.

  “Prepare yourselves, because I think we’re in for trouble,” he said. “The contagion is a core of specific DNA wrapped in corona virus making it highly transferrable, like a common cold.”

  “You called it a species killer. How so?” Rhys asked.

  “Simply for the reason it was crafted. Who would go to such trouble to create a virus that does nothing or only has a minimal effect? What’s the purpose? That fact alone is my basis for labeling it a species killer.

  “The big question is, what’s the purpose of that hidden DNA? That has me deeply unsettled for it can be anything. We won’t know the delicate details of this contagion until people start dying.

  “But the fact that it’s crafted narrows the field for place of origin. It’s well done by someone accomplished at gene editing. The problem with that being I happen to be more accomplished.”

  His phone beeped and he read a message. Dreya’s gut clenched at the downturn at the corners of his eyes. “What is it?”

  “When I identified the virus, I put out a CDC alert.” Another message pinged, and another, and another. He turned the volume off.

  Simon sent a blast of warning. Brace yourself.

  Her long-complaining instincts tightened her gut. She had to ask even though the words stuck in her throat. “What is it?”

  “We’re starting to see symptoms.”

  “From Dulles?” Quinn asked.

  “No. From around the globe.”

  7

  Lazar knew only one thought once the CDC alerts came pouring in.

  We have to get moving.

  He entered a code into the security panel for the containment cells; Dreya and Quinn’s door locks popped and their doors slid open. “Get dressed,” he said. “You’re coming with me.”

  He stepped through the door into the outer hallway to make a call while they dressed. “Hello, Senator, it’s Anthony Lazar. Sir, we have a situation, and I need you to get me in to see the President, now.”

  Palpable resistance flowed. Stanton’s panicked voice squeaked through the speaker, sounding like a gutted sheep. “I’m very aware all hell is breaking loose.”

  More resistance came. With no time to waste, he said, “Sanford, do you want me to say on this public line why it is you’re going to get me in to see the President today?”

  The resistance sputtered out; he didn’t wait for further response. “We’re on our way. I’m bringing Jarvis from the FBI and one of his teams. I’ll see you at the door.”

  While Senator Stanton put him on hold, Lazar gazed out the window. Benignly, the day was beautiful, a reasonable temperature, gentle breeze out of the southwest; a day to remember. He shook his head in disbelief. While it was his greatest desire, he never thought this day would come—a day when Nobility would save the huma
n race.

  “Yes, Senator, I’m here. We’re on our way.”

  Ever since his sister’s death, his life had moved in a great circle, from Washington to Draco Station and back. The search for a means to prevent human disease had propelled him to another galaxy, and now on Earth, humanity needed his discovery desperately.

  But will they go for it?

  Since taking Nobility, his ego had been replaced by more circumspect consideration when making decisions. While this change in procedure rarely caused a change in decision for him, it ultimately rendered him more solid in his stance, leaving his conscience satisfied.

  At last, Nobility for humanity.

  He hated that it had to be this way.

  Dreya, Rhys, Quinn, and Simon came through the door, their faces expectant as they waited for his instructions.

  “We’re going to the While House.” He turned to exit when Dreya caught his arm.

  “What’s going on?” she demanded.

  “What we feared has happened—the virus has exploded around the world. We’re going to talk to the President about Nobility.”

  Thinking that was all she wanted, he turned back, but she hung on, tenacious and unmovable.

  “What are you planning?”

  “The world is about to catch on fire, Dreya. It’s time to play the Nobility card, however unfortunate it is that we do so for this reason. But you and they—” He pointed to the men at her back. “You are living proof Nobility can defeat this contagion.”

  “You’re going to release our secret?”

  Rhys, Quinn, and Simon pressed closer, filling the close space in the hallway with protection for their alpha. They were a formidable team, one he was proud to be a part of.

  They also looked ready to tear his head off.

  “No, I’m going to release your secret to POTUS alone. For his eyes only. No Secret Service, just us and Jarvis.”

  She squinted and drilled him with her piercing stare, but he relaxed, knowing he spoke the truth. “We have to convince him, and what greater proof than you and the team? You threw yourself on the vial to save lives. We’re still trying to do that, Dreya. You had to realize the consequences of your very public heroics. But our concern today isn’t for you and the team’s exposure. Today we’re about saving lives.”

  He waited. In spite of her personal objection, ultimately, her practicality and sense of Nobility would agree with his logic for it was grounded in truth. He waited, and after a couple long slow breaths, she nodded.

  “All right,” she said. “For his eyes only.”

  With her acceptance, everyone sighed and relaxed.

  “Before we go,” Dreya said, “we have something else to discuss.”

  “Yeah, and it better be about who’s behind this,” Simon rumbled. “We’re collecting evidence. It’s not much, but we’re not done, either.”

  “We need serious authority,” Rhys suggested. “If we’re going after who I think we are.”

  “And it has to be utterly silent and with carte blanche,” Quinn added.

  “No one’s above the law,” she warned. “This could get ugly.”

  She gave him the stare again. He felt an energy poking around in his mind as if she tried to reach him with her telepathy. “We’ll address that with the President. Stanton has arranged us a meeting.”

  They rushed through the facility and burst out the front doors. His phone pinged again and he glanced at the message. He grimaced with dismay, although he’d been expecting this news.

  They watched him.

  “We have our first death. It’s Sam Collins.”

  Dreya closed her eyes and clenched her fists. Lazar reached to touch her, but Rhys caught his eye and shook his head. In a moment, she opened her eyes. “Let’s go. People are dying.”

  They ran to his vehicle and climbed in. He took a look in the rearview mirror and connected his gaze with Dreya. The intensity of her expression stopped him for a moment, but then she nodded, and he started the car.

  At the White House, Senator Stanton and Jarvis waited for them. As soon as Lazar rushed up, Stanton hissed, “This is not a good time, Anthony. There’s a—”

  “I’m aware, Sanford. That’s why we’re here. Now, shall we hurry? As you know, people are dying.”

  They followed Stanton down hallways so heavily carpeted that all sounds were muffled, as if coming from another dimension. A right turn, three lefts. Adrenalin spiked Lazar’s heart rate and his palms sweated. Unaccustomed to such reactions, he focused on settling his breath and calming his mind before presenting Nobility to the President of the United States.

  Abruptly they arrived at the Oval Office outer rooms. Stanton motioned them to all sit while he conferred with the receptionist. He spoke in hushed tones, pointed to them, murmured, and nodded.

  The receptionist buzzed through to the Oval Office, spoke and hung up. Leaning over to speak around Stanton, she said, “The President will see you, but only for a few minutes.”

  A Secret Service agent opened the door and they all filed through. Inside, three Secret Service agents stood at various points in the office.

  The President stood behind his desk and leaned forward, hands flat on its surface. “Sanford, what’s so important?” He peered around Senator Stanton. “Who are these people? Make it quick.” He nodded to Jarvis when the director stood. “What’s going on?”

  Jarvis stepped forward. “Mr. President, first, I’m here to vouch for the integrity of my agents Love, Morgan, Kingston, and Sinclair.”

  “Very well, Director Jarvis. I appreciate your presence. Now, as there is an international situation building, let’s get on with it.”

  “That’s why we’re here, sir,” Lazar said. “You’re aware an incident happened yesterday at Dulles? That an FBI agent—”

  “Yes,” the President said. “I saw the video. How is that agent?”

  “I’m fine, sir,” Dreya said. “You should let Dr. Lazar explain why.”

  The President’s eyes grew large and he pushed back from the desk as if Dreya had tossed out a basket full of snakes. The three Secret Service agents rushed forward.

  “She’s not infected,” Lazar announced, holding his hands up. “Even though she took a direct hit.” He leveled his most stern expression on the President. “If you’re going to save lives, sir, you need to know why.”

  Jarvis spoke up. “But I’m afraid what we’re about to reveal is a matter of national security and for the President’s eyes only. On my authority, I request that the Secret Service and Senator Stanton vacate the room for the span of this discussion. Also, cameras and microphones have to be off.”

  The President walked around the desk to stand before Dreya. He peered into her face, but she held her ground. “Trust me, sir. It’s a good story, one you want to hear.”

  “Huh,” he grunted. “People are dying. I don't have time for a story.”

  “This story will save the world,” Lazar said.

  Senator Stanton went eagerly to the door. “I’m sure I don’t want to know.” The President waved the Secret Service out in Stanton’s wake. “Go on. I’ll be fine.” They exited and the doors closed. “All right. Thrill me, and do it quickly,” he announced.

  “Mr. President,” Lazar began, “I’ve been working on a formula to make humanity better than it’s ever been. A formula I call Nobility. I began with the purpose to eliminate disease, and along the way, many versions of Nobility have come to pass, all with the same purpose—to leave humanity better than it was before.”

  “I’ve read the TOP SECRET reports of your work with the man, that criminal. What was his name? Ivanov. You’re a genetic scientist.”

  “Yes,” Lazar replied. “I’ve examined this virus, the one Agent Love lay upon for hours, and I can tell you this contagion was crafted specifically to be a species killer. We have little time to save all humanity.”

  Every eye was on him. Many times, he had spoken to the most important people on the planet when he searched
for a facility for his work. Always he’d been eloquent, always driven.

  But never had seven billion lives depended on his words.

  He wiped a damp palm on his pants, grateful to Nobility for the reminder he was human, not godly. “I believe God created Nobility through me. And Nobility will save our species from this contagion.”

  “What does this Nobility have to do with the agent?” the President asked.

  “I’ve been given one version of Nobility,” Dreya said. “Along with the three members of my team. We’ve all been Nobilized, you might say.”

  “You see, sir,” Lazar continued, “Nobility strives to eliminate weak spots in the human genome, whether behavioral or physical in nature. When Agent Love’s Nobility detected the presence of the virus, it immediately programmed her immune system to produce antibodies, even—”

  Rhys stood. “Even in my body, Mr. President, although I wasn’t exposed.”

  “Do you know what that means?” Lazar asked. “It means automatic immunity spread to those Nobilized even before exposure. And what it will mean to the future is immunity to all diseases—all diseases, Mr. President. Like a permanent vaccine against everything, only not chemical but a cure of genetic origin.”

  He passed a file of papers to the President. “This is my discovery about the virus Agent Love came into contact with yesterday. The virus is crafted with a specific mode of kill we won’t know until we study those who have died. This specific mode of kill was inserted into a generic corona virus to make it highly transmissible. It is, in my assessment, a species killer.”

  No one spoke.

  The President gazed off for a moment before asking, “Who? Who has the ability? Who would want to do this?”

  Jarvis cleared his throat. “My agents want to answer that question, sir. We feel those involved could exist at all levels of authority, so for my team to proceed, they need to operate outside of traditional channels. They need carte blanche, and no one outside this room can know about the mission. We’re asking for a letter of marque.”

  The President sat slowly. A short and blustery man with a barrel chest and a head of thick brown hair, his silence spoke loudly. He gave them each a hard gaze, assessing. “This is a big story, all right,” he said, nodding to Dreya.