The GODD Chip (The Unity of Four Book 1)

by K Patrick Donoghue

  The fact the Makoa ejected its brain core before self-destructing was not surprising to Damon in and of itself. That was the standard operating procedure for any military-grade android. No one wanted an enemy to access and download sensitive data from a captured or disabled andro. But, typically, an ejected core self-destructed. And it was easy to find evidence of the destruction given the unique materials used to form the core casing.

  Damon turned in a circle. “Which means the core is still out here somewhere.”

  “Or…the agitators retrieved it before they escaped.”

  “That’s possible but unlikely. The heat sigs were moving in the opposite direction when the Makoa exploded. If they had doubled back, we would have detected them.” Damon started walking back toward the road. “I want another search, a wider radius. Beyond the blast zone. Bring in every collection-droid we have. Use gliders outfitted to detect the casing’s radiation. Focus on the forest on both sides of the road leading to the crater.”

  Takoda’s residence

  Wolf Lake, East Dakota, Carapach

  Insanity. That had been Takoda’s first thought when he viewed Hoot’s 4:36 a.m. holosnap. The Hearns rescues had been successful. They now had Billy, the missing link to Dr. Mugabe’s GODD chip. It was time to press Sarah Hearns to reveal who had implanted the chip in Billy and then begin the search to find them. Instead, Hoot’s message instructed Takoda and Yon to return to work in New Atlantia as if nothing had occurred. Insanity.

  He had been so infuriated by the order, he immediately whisked off a return holosnap, reminding Hoot that he and Yon had been singled out for more extensive inspection at the border checkpoint the evening before. He also pointed out their escape at the western wall later that night had been so chaotic, there had been no time to ensure they left no physical evidence of their participation. Given both these factors, Takoda told Hoot he considered it suicide to re-cross the border. The New Atlantians would surely detain them.

  In Hoot’s sugary reply, she told him not to worry. She had inside information indicating that while the New Atlantians were suspicious of Takoda and Yon, they had no proof of their involvement in the previous day’s events. At worst, Hoot said, they would be questioned, but the New Atlantians had no grounds to do more than that.

  So, against his better judgment, Takoda had yielded. Truth be told, however, his acquiescence had been influenced more by Yon than Hoot’s assurances. Yon had been copied on Hoot’s messages and Takoda’s reply, and she sent him a private holosnap afterward to remind him they had both pledged to follow the mission through to the finish, and they weren’t finished yet.

  Now, as Takoda crept his forty-year-old Mustang replica along the main road toward the border, he wondered if the finish of their mission would come sooner than Yon thought. Given the size of the traffic jam heading into New Atlantia, it was clear there was a holdup at the border checkpoint. To Takoda, that meant NASF was out in force, conducting intensive searches of every vehicle.

  Sure enough, two hours later when Takoda reached the checkpoint, one of the waiting security force officers motioned for him to pull over onto the shoulder. The officer was Roka Akagi, a chatty man Takoda knew well from his daily stops at the checkpoint to present his ID. Takoda lowered the window and greeted Akagi just as six NASF Vipers fanned out around his decrepit sedan. “Good morning, Roka.”

  “Morning, Dr. Wells,” Akagi replied. “Afraid I need you to step out of the car.”

  “Of course.” Takoda’s heart began to pound as he exited the car and approached the laser-rifle-armed Akagi. He fully expected the officer or the Vipers searching his car to surround and arrest him as soon as they finished their inspection.

  “You heard about last night?” Akagi asked.

  Here we go, thought Takoda. Stay calm. “Um, yes, I did. It was all over the news this morning. Fuel truck, was it?”

  Before leaving for New Atlantia, Takoda had ordered his holonode Dasan to conduct an extensive scan of the holonet, searching for news reports of the previous day’s rescues. Dasan found none, and instead provided Takoda with a collection of holovids about terrorist attacks near Minneapolis and Chicago.

  According to the holovids, a Carapach-based terrorist group had commandeered a fuel truck and crashed it through the border checkpoint, intending to detonate the truck in downtown Minneapolis in protest of recently imposed New Atlantian tariffs. The reports indicated NASF gliders intercepted and destroyed the truck not far from the border. The same motive was attached to the separate set of explosions in Chicago earlier in the day, where once again the holovids indicated the terrorist plot was foiled by the fast response of NASF drones.

  It was a flimsy cover story, but Takoda understood the reason for it. The New Atlantians were loathed to admit another successful Beacon kidnapping.

  “That’s what they say,” said Akagi. “Must have been one helluva lot of fuel, though.”

  He’s trying to soften me up with small talk. Just play along. Don’t give him a reason to be suspicious. “Oh? Why do you say that?”

  “Biggest crater I ever saw. It’s a good thing the terrorists didn’t make it into Minneapolis.”

  Seconds later, the last of the Vipers finished scanning Takoda’s car and backed away. He girded for the arrest but, instead, Akagi waved him toward the Mustang. “Okay, doc, all clear. Might want to start out earlier tomorrow. Think the checkpoint’s gonna be like this until we nab the terrorists.”

  Takoda opened the car door and turned to Akagi. “Sounds like good advice, Roka. Be safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “You too, doc.”

  Once Takoda passed through the Carapach checkpoint, he got his first glimpse at the traffic heading out of New Atlantia. The checkpoint on the other side of the wall was staffed by twice the number of NASF officers and the line of waiting vehicles stretched beyond the horizon. Takoda interpreted the traffic imbalance as an indication the New Atlantians thought the people responsible for the explosion last night were still in-country. Maybe Hoot was right, after all, he thought.

  The rest of the drive into the city was uneventful and Takoda arrived at the clinic in time for the morning staff meeting. Yon was already there and greeted him in the hallway outside the conference room. “Hey, how was your drive in?”

  “Long.”

  “Yeah. Same here.”

  “How are you holding up?” Takoda asked.

  Yon whispered, “Okay, I guess. Got your snap about Ellie. I’m glad she’s okay.”

  “Me too.” Takoda was still angry with the android for risking capture to retrieve Akecheta’s brain core, but it was hard to fault her for the gambit knowing she had been successful. Looking into the nearly full conference room, he whispered, “We should probably go on in.”

  As they entered, they were met by Dr. Neville Thompson, the clinic director. Unlike Takoda and Yon, Neville was a lifelong New Atlantian and an evvie.

  Evvies like Neville were considered the crème de la crème of mid-twenty-second-century society, superhumans whose genetically-engineered DNA had now passed through three generations of interbreeding without producing a single gutation. They were the desired end products of the mid-to-late twenty-first-century mania to extend the human lifespan and weed out genetic imperfections.

  One could easily pick out an evvie on a crowded street. Tall, with perfect skin, teeth, and hair, their faces and bodies were of incomparable beauty. They were the most gifted people on the planet, athletically, intellectually and otherwise. They were also the healthiest of all humans and aged at a very slow rate. The oldest of them now were in their late sixties but they looked as if they were no older than mid-thirties. Their members were made up of people of every ethnicity and they lived on every continent. To many people in the lower castes, they were godlike figures.

  Sadly, to many others, including Takoda, evvies were also constant reminders of the catastrophe that forever changed the world, and of the string of crises that continued to threaten human
existence. This perception made it hard for Takoda to smile back when Neville wished him a good morning.

  “Did you see it? The crater? Did you see it in person?” Neville asked, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

  Takoda adjusted the lapels of his lab coat and shook his head. “Couldn’t see it from the main road.”

  “Yes, I know. But I thought for sure you would take a detour to check it out. You fish up that way all the time, don’t you?”

  “I fish a lot of places, Neville. Besides, I don’t think NASF is encouraging sightseers. I imagine they have the whole area cordoned off.”

  Takoda turned to find a seat at the table. Neville followed close behind. As the two men occupied chairs next to each other, Neville said, “It’s surprising they haven’t published any pictures yet, don’t you think? No news-drone footage, no nothing. I would have thought the media would be all over the place.”

  Yon slid onto a seat on the other side of Takoda. As she responded to Neville, she yawned. “I’m sure NASF has their reasons, Neville.”

  “Well, I think it’s suspicious. Especially given how close the explosion was to the incinerator facility.”

  For the love of four gods, please shut up, Takoda thought. Alas, one of the nurses egged on Neville to explain his point about the incinerator.

  “I don’t think the fuel truck was heading to Minneapolis, I think it’s target was the incinerator. I mean, just look at a map. The explosion happened more than twenty miles from the city, but only about three miles from the incinerator.”

  “Why would terrorists care about the incinerator?” the nurse asked.

  “Maybe it wasn’t a protest about the tariffs,” Neville said. “Maybe it was that anti-euthanasia group, Beacon. You know, blow up the facility to protest gutant euthanasia.”

  Takoda’s temperature began to rise. Under the table, he clenched his fists.

  “Oh, I see,” said the nurse. “But that’s silly. They’re euthanized here, not at the incinerator.”

  “Can we just get on with the meeting?” Yon asked. “I’ve got a lot of test results to analyze today.”

  “All right, all right,” said Neville. He turned and whispered to the nurse, “Don’t forget you heard it here first. The incinerator was the real target.”

  As Neville began to walk through the agenda, Takoda felt Yon’s hand cover his fist. She smoothed her fingers over his skin and lightly squeezed his hand. Takoda relaxed his grip.

  Later, alone in his office, Takoda loosened his tie and stared at the stack of case files on his desk. He lifted one but dropped it just as quickly. I can’t do this. I can’t put another child to sleep. Not now.

  “But you know it’s merciful,” a voice in his head replied.

  “It’s barbaric,” Takoda mumbled. It was a belief he had harbored since he was old enough to understand what the word euthanasia meant. “It’s cowardly.”

  “You prefer to see children become animals? You prefer they suffer and hurt others?” the voice argued back.

  No, I don’t. I prefer to cure them.

  “Well, now you can try. You saved Billy and, as soon as Sarah reveals who treated him, you’ll be one step closer to the GODD chip.”

  I should be taking that step now. Not sitting here, prepping to euthanize another child.

  “But it’s necessary. You have to keep up appearances. You have to protect Beacon. Just until things cool down.”

  Takoda shut off the internal debate and pounded the desk. “I can’t! I won’t!”

  “You won’t what?”

  Takoda looked up to see a puzzled Yon standing in the doorway to his office. He waved for her to come in. “Sorry, I was talking to myself, not you.”

  Sliding onto a guest chair, Yon said, “Oh. So, what were you talking to yourself about?”

  “Forget it. I’m just frustrated.”

  “Let me guess…with you-know-who.”

  Takoda looked away and mumbled, “With the whole situation.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry. I’ve got to keep reminding myself to think big picture, no matter how much it eats me up inside.”

  “I know. It’s hard. It’s really hard,” Yon said. “Unfortunately, it’s about to get harder.”

  Takoda looked up. “What do you mean?”

  Yon leaned across the desk and whispered, “Neville stopped by to see me. He said NASF called. They want to meet with us this afternoon.”

  CHAPTER 9: MOTIVES

  NASF Province Headquarters

  Minneapolis, Lakelands Province, New Atlantia

  After returning to HQ from the western wall crime scene, Damon sought out the head of NASF’s genetic crimes division, an unusually arrogant snot, Major Beauregard Jackson. In the days leading up to Beacon’s operation, Jackson had waffled on possible motives for the underground’s interest in Billy Hearns. In the light of what had transpired, the lengths to which Beacon resorted to smuggle the kid, Damon wanted Jackson to get off the fence and help him narrow the motives.

  In response to Damon’s prodding along these lines at the opening of their meeting, Jackson said, “As my reports have consistently theorized, Beacon kidnapped the boy to conduct illegal genetic research.”

  “Oh, you’ve been clear about that, Beau. But that’s like saying a burglar’s motive for breaking into a house is to steal something. What’s the something here, Beau? You’ve told us Billy’s DNA is an outlier compared to other pre-jakalis. I get that. But what does Beacon hope to achieve by researching an outlier?”

  With a glare bordering on disdain, Jackson said, “Again, my reports have offered multiple possibilities.”

  “Which is shorthand for saying you have no idea.”

  “Look, Spiers, just because you botched another operation don’t take it out on me.”

  “I’ve got thicker skin than that, Beau. Yours should be thicker, too. Now, listen, you’ve listed a bunch of possibilities, but you haven’t pegged any option as more probable than the others. You know this kid’s DNA better than me, better than anyone on my team. You’ve studied it in detail. I need something more than generalizations to go on. Beacon pulled out all the stops to smuggle Billy, and they had to have an awfully powerful motive to justify it all.”

  Jackson reclined his chair and twiddled his thumbs. Damon couldn’t tell if the man was lost in thought or formulating another barb, but he didn’t have time to wait for Jackson to break out of his stupor. “Come on, Beau. I’m meeting with the doctors at MGC later today. I think they’re in this up to their necks, but I need something to dig at, an angle to explore. Help me.”

  “I don’t think you appreciate the difficulties in picking one or another motive in this case. They range from the benevolent to the sinister. Some are related to Jakali Syndrome, others not.”

  “Skip the benevolent ones. Focus on the sinister.”

  “I would not be so quick to dismiss the benevolent, Spiers. One in particular could be a very powerful motive. They could be trying to develop a preventative cure for JS.”

  Of all the motives on Jackson’s laundry list, this one had stood out early to Damon given Beacon’s public relations advocacy for developing a JS cure as an alternative to euthanasia and sterilization. But he had discounted the possibility because of the very fact Billy’s DNA was an outlier. Damon pointed out this contradiction to Jackson. “If Beacon really wanted to develop a cure for JS, wouldn’t it make more sense to study the DNA of more common pre-jakalis?”

  Jackson nodded. “That’s a valid question. Choosing Billy seems counterintuitive on the surface but, if one thinks about it long enough, it really isn’t. Billy has violet eyes.”

  Damon frowned. “And that’s relevant because…”

  “There is research that suggests pre-jakalis with violet eyes develop the condition at a slower rate and experience less severe symptoms than those with natural eye colors. Of course, there is also research that refutes any correlation between the VE gene and JS.�
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  Damon pondered Jackson’s comments, recalling the violet-eye gene was a controversial embryo-design feature introduced in the 2070s. He recalled the date so easily because the gutation of the VE gene was initially thought to be partially responsible for the necro outbreak of 2082. Though that supposition was later proven inaccurate, the replacement gene was quickly banned for future embryo implantation. But those who had already received the VE gene were not forced to replace it. As a result, the VE gene continued to pass on to subsequent generations, including Billy.

  “You see,” Jackson continued, “if it’s true JS develops slower in kids with the VE gene, it gives Beacon more time to study the changes to Billy’s DNA as he ages. They may also be drawn to Billy given the theory of milder symptoms in VE jakalis, believing they may learn insights that allow them to enhance that theoretical effect. That said, Beacon may be way off the mark in these beliefs. As I mentioned, other research refutes any correlation between the VE gene and Jakali Syndrome.”

  Damon agreed the theory was a stretch, which was probably the reason Jackson had not prioritized the JS-cure motive. But it was a topic he would probe with the doctors at the gene center, nonetheless. If they bristled at his probing, it might provide him the opening he needed to take them into custody for further questioning.

  “All right. That’s helpful, Beau. Let’s talk about the sinister now.”

  “Very well. How about terrorism? Weaponizing the boy’s DNA.”

  “Meaning what? Beacon wants to breed an army of jakalis like Billy?”

  Jackson rolled his eyes. “Don’t be daft, Spiers. If they weaponize his DNA, it won’t have any relation to Jakali Syndrome. Though it still might be related to his VE gene.”

  “I’m afraid you’ve lost me, Beau.”

  “Think man. What’s the other New Atlantian practice stuck in Beacon’s craw?”

  “Didgee conscription.”