The design of the Gens buildings was the same for each facility; there were only two ways in and two ways out of each. Striker teams surrounded each building and barred the exits. Then multiple incendiary devices were shot through windows from every side and through every window. The firestorm that raged in the immediate aftermath was terrible. The teams sent to do the jobs were on premises less than thirty minutes. They were dressed like SWAT teams and were surgical in their strike tactics. If any evidence of their presence had been recorded, it never surfaced.
There were additional simultaneous attacks by air using the new “scattergun” weapons system developed by Maria which were launched on Preserves in Colorado, Northern California, Mexico, Costa Rica and Brazil. The bomblet technology, based on programmable marble size “projectiles” employing nanotechnology at its most lethal, were dropped by the tens of thousands over the specific Preserves, each pre-programmed to seek out a specific heat and weight signature.
While the stated goal of the attacks wasn’t to commit the Gens equivalent genocide, it was Adam’s intention to demonstrate that any response given by “Alan” and his team would be swift, lethal and immediate. In addition, any response back by the Gens would be dealt with even more severely, with new and frequent attacks taking place in major cities with large transformed Gens populations.
The effect was both instantaneous and devastating. Within moments of returning home, news began pouring in to both Paulo and Enzo of the simultaneous attacks on the Labs and the Preserves. They found their homes empty and abandoned, their families missing.
Adam received a single email from Paulo, containing nine words.
“Please stop immediately. What do you want from us?”
***
When all was finally settled, and the damage assessed by what remained of the American contingent of the Gens leadership, tens of thousands of Gens had died in the coordinated attacks on the Labs, the Preserves, and the wilderness areas. Eighty thousand, a staggering number. The attack had left an indelible impression upon Paulo and he now knew the game was up.
The foreign Labs had now reported that the data on their servers was irretrievably corrupted and they had no idea how. Since most of the research and data originated at the US Labs and was disseminated to other Labs around the world for specific projects, Paulo came to the painful conclusion that no uncorrupted data remained, and the research undertaken over so many years was simply lost.
He was incorrect, but nonetheless it would do him and the Collective no good. Two groups had his data; neither were disposed to share.
Paulo felt a huge burden suddenly lifted from the universe and placed directly onto his back, indeed grafted into his entire being. Eighty thousand. How could he have so misjudged the response capability of the Human? How had he so misjudged the Human’s capacity for the complete and utter destruction of his presumed long-hidden science projects?
Paulo, and what remained of his crew and the American Gens leadership, still held out a tiny hope that something of the original plan might still survive. Over one thousand five hundred senior Gens scientists and a similar number of senior Gens researchers had miraculously survived the conflagration. It wasn’t lost on Paulo that this seemed somewhat suspicious, but he would try figure that out later.
Only one plausible explanation had bubbled to the surface: Saldana Ri and the Black Shirts.
If the Serum Project and the E-5 virus research remained intact, it was probably because there were a large number of traitors who had infiltrated the Labs and were beholden to Saldana and her Black Shirt movement. After all, why else would they be missing so fortuitously and in such large numbers? Paulo would deal with them and her later; for now, he had to deal with the Human and salvage what he could of his people, the leadership structure, and their way of life. Paulo decided to tell the Human that he, Paulo, was finished and then try to stitch together and salvage whatever he could later. Paulo understood where he stood after today; nonetheless it would be his remaining life’s work to seek out the Human and extract retribution for the eighty thousand.
But before he got there, there was one more thing he had to do.
Enzo had to be brought to account. None of this would’ve happened without his duplicity. Was he in league with the Black Shirts as Demitri had hinted? Compromised by Saldana herself? Paulo would soon get to the bottom of this, then turn to securing the return of his family. After that, he would decide what to do with Enzo and the traitors. The traitors were few, and his Collective still numbered in the hundreds of millions. Losing as many as they had was a bad day. But it wasn’t the end of the struggle.
At least he hoped it wasn’t.
Chapter 50
Paulo counted himself lucky that he hadn’t been in the Lab when the attack occurred. Had he, along with his brother Enzo, COO Charles Hanley and a handful of the senior scientists, researchers, and technicians from Princeton been in the Lab, they would all now be dead. He and Enzo had departed immediately after the call with Sarmiento to check on the status of their respective families at home; by the time they arrived, Paulo’s wife and three children were already gone. Ditto for Enzo.
Charles Hanley and the research staff had been attending a seminar in New York City, but Paulo had been unable to contact him or anyone else on his team. Originally, he thought they were dead along with everyone else at the facility; but the body count came up short and the burned-out offices of many who were now missing didn’t include any charred bodies.
Fortuitous.
Paulo then saw an email from Hanley saying he and his team would be away from the Princeton facility for the day and a few more thereafter. However, a quick call to the hotel where the seminar was to take place confirmed that the seminar wasn’t to be held for another month.
A mistake? He hoped so. And if so, a lucky mistake. “Que dichoso error,” an old saying goes. A lucky mistake
Paulo and Enzo spent the night in at a modest hotel out on Long Island under assumed names and were separately on their phones following up around the US and Geneva on the aftermath of the coordinated attacks. The loss of life was hard to process, but he also explained that the eighty thousand lives lost did not in any way affect the existence of the other two hundred eighty-nine million Gens that remained.
Perspective was needed; the worst that could be said was that their research initiatives were largely toast.
The war, whether he wanted to accept it or not, was now on. In the first few skirmishes, the Gens had not fared well. It had never occurred to him that the humans could be this lethal this quickly. This bad situation was a direct result of the loss of the Library, and worse, the loss of the Library to this specific human. Somehow the Human had decoded and discovered much about him and his Collective. Paulo never for a moment contemplated that this could happen. That was also Enzo’s take. Had Paulo been subtly influenced by a traitorous brother?
One of Paulo’s first calls was to Demitri Asinamayov. He was alive and had been travelling, which he did every day. Demitri had contacted people from all locations that had been attacked to determine the extent of the damage and to begin coordinating a response, if there was to be one. If there could be one. Not a response against the humans, but a response on how to preserve the remaining leadership so that panic wouldn’t set in and prevail among the Collective. Demitri’s first priority was to gather what remained of their senior leadership infrastructure in the US and get them to safety. Then, let them decide what to do next.
Demitri activated every Captain and Tracker in North America and arranged for them to fly to Wilmington, North Carolina. Fifty miles outside of the city was a large training facility capable of accommodating several thousand Gens, maybe more, and which could be activated overnight. He had trained for this as a potentiality, never believing in his heart that it would be necessary. He had never believed the humans could be this smart or this ruthless.
He wouldn’t make that mistake again. The los
s of life was egregious, but hardly crippling. At least he hoped leadership had planned for an event like this. He hoped it would only be disruptive and inconvenient more than anything; still he still harbored the thought that some form of physical retribution was called for. He had no way of knowing that it would never take place; the Human had in fact crippled the Gens mainstream leadership and their ability to respond in kind.
Their plans for the Great Cull were now dust in the wind.
But the Human hadn’t crippled the Black Shirts. Their star was ascendant and would become more so in the immediate aftermath of this event.
Just exactly as Saldana Ri had planned.
***
Saldana Ri was at home with her husband and three children when news of the attack became widely known. The Regional Councils had been informed by Paulo, who in turn informed their local Councils, who in turn informed their people. The logistics of news dissemination had long ago been put in place, and with the advent of cell phones, blogs and internet technology, virtually 100% of the rank and file transformed Gens were aware of the situation within twenty-four hours. It would take longer to inform natural state Gens, particularly those in remote Preserves and in the wild. Within a week, however, every Gens on the planet knew something of what had happened; most of it was even true.
Saldana Ri couldn’t contain her glee at events. She had fortunately had the foresight to get her people out of the Labs and away to safety in anticipation of something like this occurring. But the depth of the Human’s depravity was mind boggling even to her. She thought maybe a Lab would be targeted; not every Lab, and six Preserves plus a bevvy of Wilderness Areas. And what was this weapon the Human had developed? It was terrifying.
Had only one Lab been targeted, the Gens in the other Labs were to explain that they had received an email from Princeton telling them to stay home that day. Security drill.
Still, this was the catalyst she had long planned and hoped for; she now was firmly in control of the events about to unfold. She would capitalize on the attacks and inform the ordinary Gens that the Black Shirts were now the solution. Her propaganda machine would be activated and cranked up. The same means of communication that traditional leadership employed, would now be used by her. She had shadowed and replicated every major initiative of leadership. Hers was truly a shadow government, and it was both primed and ready to act.
Moreover, the Black Shirts had kept their own versions of the research for the Serum Project and the E-5 virus on their own air gapped servers and hadn’t updated all of them simultaneously. They were more cautious and efficient, and that prudence had redounded to their benefit. The mischief created by Alana McCarthy hadn’t seeped into all Gens data everywhere; they could still carry out the research unaffected by circumstances. Saldana would now come out of the shadows and would begin power sharing talks with Paulo and global Gens Leadership on the Councils.
The story that Saldana and her team would now spin would paint a picture of Gens traditional leadership as weak, slow, and incompetent. By contrast, the Black Shirt leadership had foreseen everything and had prepared a response. New circumstances dictated new solutions. The Black Shirts had them; Paulo and his hierarchy at the Collective did not.
Saldana made her calls, and the wheels were now set in motion. The first order of business was propaganda. She had formulated a plan for the immediate takeover of the Collective’s means of communication with the transformed Gens by co-opting the nerds in charge and gaining access to backend admin functions. Then the websites, emails and other tools would slowly begin to tell a story that was quite different than before. At some point, the Black Shirts, Saldana Ri and the Black Shirt leadership would reveal themselves and come forward.
Her science nerds would follow her plan and relocate immediately and quietly to various new locations around the country and some around the world. Finally, targeted assassinations of leadership councils would be implemented. There would be confusion and disarray around events, but not in her organization. There was a plan and it would now be even easier than she had hoped. The death of eighty thousand Gens was more than even she could ever have hoped for. The destruction of all six Labs was like mana from heaven.
“Honey, can you watch the kids for a few days. Something has come up, and I need to get out in the field. Problems with distribution. Can you be a dear again for the umpteenth time?”
“Where are you off to now and for how long this time?”
Eaton Gray wasn’t upset with his wife; he didn’t mind that she was an important consultant to BioGen International and had to travel solving big problems. He loved his wife and was proud of her, and her accomplishments.
By contrast, he was content to stay home with the kids and do his work. He hardly ever got out in the field anymore; not because he couldn’t but because he didn’t want to. He was wealthy, and he preferred his genteel life with Saldana and his kids. He was happy; she was happy. The kids were spoiled rotten.
“Days, at least a couple of days. Then I’m home for good. I promise this time.”
“Like last time?” Eaton was just pushing her buttons to get her appear at his home office and deliver a kiss or two. She knew this and always let him have his way.
“I adore you, you know. My life used to suck, but then you came into it and look at me. I’m hopelessly in love and a slave to my passions. That means you, by the way. What can I bring home for you this time? Silly hat? T-shirt? Me?”
“Just you. That’s all I have ever wanted, plus the kids. I love you, Saldana. Please be careful.”
“Careful? What do you mean?”
“I mean I read the papers and live on the internet. All six US locations of BioGen International attacked and burned to the ground. Arson and terrorism suspected. Hundreds of dead. I doubt that ‘distribution’ is the problem. Please don’t put yourself in harms’ way. I need you here, now and always.”
“I wish I didn’t love you so much, Eaton. It would make everything so much simpler. But I can’t help myself. Try not to worry; I’m never in harms’ way. Others, sure. But not me.”
“I wish I could believe that. Sadly, I don’t.”
“You should, though. I promise this time when I’m back, I’ll be back for good. No traveling, no working; just a simple happy life with my very own little brood. You’ll see. I can be trusted this time.”
Eaton didn’t see. He didn’t believe his wife one iota. Something was up, and she had changed. Not dramatically but somehow something was different. She was different. He wanted to believe every word she spoke but did not.
Saldana left, and the house was quiet but for three little ones in dire need of daddy’s attention. She didn’t see Eaton again for almost two years; when she left her husband and children, ir t was for good. By then the world had changed and the circumstances of their reunion bitter.
Saldana did love her husband and her children. But she also knew they were a long-term liability for her and her cause. She had long ago decided that she would seize what happiness she could for so long as she could. Then, when the inevitable took place, she would feel the immense human emotions of sadness and regret.
She would have to kill her husband and children, of course. They would soon become living, breathing evidence of her personal transgressions, duplicity, and hypocrisy.
She had little choice in the matter. Her own feelings were hardly even relevant. Neither were the lives of her family.
Chapter 51
Paulo and Enzo arrived in Wilmington later that day, taking a commuter flight on a small regional airline neither had ever heard of. Paulo had never been to the Wilmington facility; Enzo had visited the training site several times. They were greeted at the airport by Demitri, and half a dozen Captains, as befitted the status of the Fortizi family. Once Paulo and Enzo were separately inside the two black SUV’s, Demitri pulled a gun and calmly asked Enzo not to resist being handcuffed by his men
“What’s this all ab
out, Demitri? Does Paulo know what you’re doing or is he too being handcuffed as we speak? Is this a coup?”
“Paulo ordered your arrest for treason, Enzo. It looks to him, and to me, that you are in bed with the Black Shirts. The proof is irrefutable and your complicity in that London mess direct. You are a traitor, and I hope that your brother gives me the privilege of bringing about your end. Painfully, if he will allow it.”
“I’ll be alive well after you are returned the warm embrace of your ancestors, Demitri. A fact is not irrefutable if that fact is not true. I have collaborated with no one, certainly not the Black Shirts. I have no idea what happened in London, or why. But once we get to the compound, I’m sure Paulo will explain why he has been misled by you and your Captains. Then it will be you in handcuffs; I can’t wait for that.”
“You’re a dead Gens, Enzo. I don’t see your brother protecting you this time.”
“We’ll see.”
“Indeed, we will.”
***
The SUV’s arrived at the main compound of the Wilmington facility. It looked just like a human military base it was patterned after. There were scores of barracks, several commissaries, abundant mess halls and loads of useful infrastructure. Putatively to the outside world it was a summer camp for kids; an updated religious version of the Cub Scouts or Boy Scouts. The main buildings were centralized in the middle of three thousand acres of low rolling hills, streams, and dense forest. A large network of electrified fences enclosed an inner and outer perimeter. Natural and transformed state Gens roamed the grounds, and electronic surveillance was firmly in place.
Paulo went directly to a large meeting room to get a briefing from Demitri and his team on what they had discovered while he, Paulo, was wheels up. Information was flooding in; their job was to sort out fact from conjecture and paint a realistic portrait of what conditions were like out there.
Probe Page 62
