The GODD Chip (The Unity of Four Book 1)

by K Patrick Donoghue

  Pausing the holovid, the commander continued his briefing. “As you’ll see in a moment, the three vehicles all came to stop in a town called Standing Rock in South Dakota.” He activated a still overhead image of a group of buildings. “Three different structures, all within a klick of each other. Later, the other two vehicles from the earlier scrap arrived in Standing Rock, also. As you can see, they parked here and here, very close to the three structures where the first group parked.”

  On a split-screen, two different satellite images appeared. They depicted before-and-after photographs showing the three buildings and the five vehicles parked outside.

  “These three structures are our targets,” the commander said. “Any questions?”

  A Viper commando raised his hand. “Rules of engagement?”

  “Short of attacking Carapach’s security force, we are authorized to take out anything standing between us and our targets. Civilian collateral damage is inconsequential at this point. Destroy the structures. Terminate everyone who comes out alive.”

  Standing beside the Viper was a thick-chested human commando. “Hell, yeah. Let’s do this.”

  “Roger that,” said the commander. “We’ll have a live sat-feed on all three objectives, gliders will join us on station. After the mission is complete, extraction will be by whisper-jet, here, north of town. Zero hour is 4:00 a.m. Zulu. So, change into civvies, mount up and get ready to move out. Even by maglev, we have a three-hour ride.”

  As the stealth team began to disassemble, the commander delivered his parting words. “It’s up to this team to deliver a message to Beacon they’ll never forget.”

  CHAPTER 14: REVELATIONS

  Beacon safe house

  Cannon Ball, North Dakoda, Carapach

  When Sarah Hearns entered the room, Takoda did not recognize her. With matted, tangled hair, sallow complexion and vacant eyes, she looked more like a strung-out drug addict than a woman who had just saved her children.

  Wrapped in an oversized cardigan, Sarah shuffled to the den’s couch while holding a wad of tissues under her red nose. As she sat down, she glared at Yon. “Where is Billy? I want to see him.”

  “He’s safe, Sarah. You’ll get a chance to see him soon. I give you my word.”

  Sarah’s cheeks flushed. “Your word? You lied to me. Do you have any idea how terrified my girls are? Shooting. Explosions.”

  “I’m sorry, Sarah. There was nothing we could do about that. NASF found out about the rescues. Beacon had to create diversions to get you out.”

  Takoda could understand Sarah’s anger. She had been told that the pastor priest at St. Matthew’s would quietly sneak her and her daughters out the church’s side entrance after their vigil for Billy was over…which had been the original plan before Beacon learned NASF was aware of the rescue.

  Under that original plan, the rescue would have been quiet and quick. Sarah and her daughters would have been across the border into Carapach before Rodrick Hearns returned home to find the clones. But once NASF learned of the plan, Beacon had been forced to adapt, resulting in the fiery tumult the unsuspecting Sarah had encountered.

  “NASF found out? How?” Sarah asked.

  Anger spiked inside Takoda as he stared at Sarah’s earnest expression. At least she had the decency to apologize after Yon told her of Rodrick’s eavesdropping and subsequent enlistment of NASF’s assistance to stop the rescues. But her contrition was quickly replaced by panic. Her eyes shot between Takoda and Yon like a trapped animal.

  “They’ll come after us, won’t they?”

  Takoda resisted the urge to tell her they already had. “It’s a strong possibility. That’s why you can’t see Billy right now. We need to keep you separate.”

  The frantic woman did not seem to hear Takoda. She covered her mouth with a wad of tissues. “My parents. Oh, my God, my parents. They’ll arrest them. I know it.”

  While Takoda did not know whether her parents had been arrested yet, he agreed with Sarah’s intuition. Sooner or later, NASF would detain and question them. “How much do they know, Sarah? Not about the rescues, but about Billy? Do they know about the treatments?”

  Sarah dropped the tissues and covered her face with both hands. Bending over, she began to sob. “What have I done?”

  Takoda looked at Yon and mouthed, “Not good.”

  Yon moved from her chair and sat next to Sarah. Wrapping her arm around the sobbing woman’s shoulder, Yon spoke softly. “We’ll look into it, we’ll see what Beacon can do for them, but we need your help, Sarah. We need to know about the treatments. We can’t wait any longer.”

  Pulling her face from her hands, the teary Sarah growled at Yon. “I wish I never listened to you or that purple-eyed bitch! The two of you have ruined my life.”

  Takoda and Yon exchanged another glance. At last, two clues. One of them appeared to confirm their suspicions. Sarah had encountered one of Dr. Mugabe’s violet-eyed patient-zeros…or a descendent of one. The second clue identified the treater as a woman. Takoda pushed for more answers. “Who is she, Sarah? What’s her name? Did you find her or did she find you?”

  Yon cast a disapproving look at him but Takoda did not care. He knew he was being insensitive, but he was tired of placating Sarah. She had done nothing but play cat and mouse with them for the past year, dodging every question about Billy’s treatment.

  And now, here she was complaining that the very help that had saved Billy’s life and protected Sarah and her daughters from sterilization was responsible for ruining her life. Doesn’t she realize the change in rescue plans was her fault? Takoda fumed. If she had just kept her mouth shut, NASF would have never known about the rescues.

  The words almost slipped from his mouth as Sarah berated him. “That’s all you care about, isn’t it? You don’t give two shits about me, my children, my parents. You never have.”

  “That’s not true, Sarah,” Yon said in a soothing tone. “We care very much about all of you.”

  Sarah shook her head and pulled away from Yon. Wiping her nose with the sleeve of the cardigan, she said, “Bull. You just want to know about the chip. Why, I don’t know. Like I told you before, the freakin’ piece of crap didn’t work. All it did was make Billy sick…and it didn’t stop his gutations.”

  Takoda felt a prick of excitement. Aha, another answer! The GODD chip had made Billy sick. That’s why it was removed. He argued back with Sarah, “You’re wrong. Yon told you before. It did heal his gutations…partially. Tell us about Billy’s sickness. How long after the implant did he become sick?”

  Sarah dragged the cardigan sleeve across her face again, this time using it to wipe tears from her cheeks. “I don’t know, a month, maybe a little more. Why does it matter?”

  “What kind of symptoms did Billy have?” Takoda asked, wondering if Mugabe’s smart-proteins had been the problem rather than the chip.

  “Terrible headaches, nausea, fever.” Sarah looked down. “It was supposed to help him, but all it did was hurt him.”

  “I don’t think that’s true, Sarah,” said Yon. “The chip and proteins did repair his earlier gutations. It’s possible the chip may have stopped his later gutations, too, if it had stayed in Billy longer.”

  Sarah grumbled a response that seemed to suggest Yon was speaking out of her rear end. Undeterred, Yon asked, “When you told the woman who treated Billy about his symptoms, what did she say?”

  “She told me they would pass but I couldn’t accept the risk that she was wrong. Rodrick was pushing me to take Billy to see our doctor. I was afraid the doctor would find the chip. So I told her to take it out.”

  “You told who, Sarah? What was the woman’s name?” Takoda asked.

  “She called herself Mariah Bloom when I first met her but I doubt that was her real name.”

  “Why?”

  Sarah shrugged. “She wanted me to keep everything secret. Our meetings, our conversations, Billy’s treatment. Why would someone like that share her real name?”
<
br />   “Tell us more about how you connected. Did you make the initial contact or did she?” Yon asked.

  Sarah began to lay out the details. Mariah had called Sarah shortly after Billy’s first DNA test, saying she was affiliated with the Chicago Gene Center and wanted to meet with her to discuss a confidential matter. Sarah indicated to Takoda and Yon that her first reaction was, “Oh, my God, there’s a problem with Billy’s test.” But Mariah said the matter she wanted to speak about had to do with an irregularity the clinic discovered in Sarah’s DNA. “She didn’t tell me it was really about Billy until we met.”

  Continuing, Sarah said when she arrived at the Chicago café Mariah proposed for their meeting, she was surprised to discover Mariah had violet-colored eyes, just like Billy. This tidbit led Yon to ask Sarah to describe the rest of Mariah’s appearance. “Caucasian, red hair, frizzy. Thin, a little too thin if you ask me. Pale complexion. Freckles on her cheeks and arms. A few wrinkles. Taller than me, but most people are taller than me, so I’m not sure that’s much of a help.”

  “How old was she? Could you tell?” Yon asked.

  “Late thirties, maybe early forties.”

  In pondering the description, Takoda pegged Mariah as a blenda like Sarah. The violet eyes meant she had replaced genes in her DNA, so she wasn’t a didgee. The lack of any physical deformities in Sarah’s description meant Mariah wasn’t a gutant. The mention of wrinkles combined with Mariah’s age made it unlikely the woman was a noble or an evvie. Neither caste showed wrinkles of any significance until they were in their late fifties. Plus, red hair was a recessive genetic trait that was very rare among the upper castes. Takoda zoned back into the conversation as Yon asked Sarah to continue describing her first meeting with Mariah.

  “She pretty much jumped right in and said she wanted to talk about Billy, not me. She handed me a copy of his DNA test results and told me about his gutations, the first two. It didn’t really register with me as a problem when she said it. I’m a blenda, and even though Billy’s father is an evvie, all of our children have at least one gutation.”

  This rang true to Takoda. Blendas and gutants preferred to mate with evvies and nobles for the precise reason that their offspring would incur fewer gutations than if they bred with fellow blendas or gutants. But the offspring DNA of an evvie-blenda or noble-blenda mating would still have some gutations.

  “Anyway, Mariah told me Billy was at risk for Jakali Syndrome. She said she could help prevent it from happening.”

  Takoda looked at Yon. “Mariah must have access to New Atlantia’s gene registry.”

  “That makes the most sense,” Yon said. She turned back to Sarah. “Weren’t you suspicious? Out of the blue, a stranger contacts you, tells you she knows Billy’s situation, offers to help.”

  “Yes, I was. But after the Chicago Gene Center provided us with Billy’s official results, and the doctor there told my husband and me the same thing about Billy’s JS risk, I changed my mind.”

  “But you never told your husband about Mariah. Why?” Takoda asked.

  “I didn’t want to stir up trouble. He’s in the Guild.”

  “So, what happened next, Sarah?” asked Yon.

  “Nothing for a while. But the more I thought about what might happen to Billy, to our family if he developed JS, I decided to get back in touch with Mariah. We talked a few times before I finally took Billy to see her.”

  As helpful as it was to hear these details, Takoda was anxious to move the conversation along. “How can we get in touch with Mariah?”

  Sarah shook her head. “I don’t know. The holophone number I used to contact her doesn’t work anymore.”

  “All right. Then, where did you meet her? Did she have an office? A clinic?”

  “It was more like a doctor’s office than it was a clinic.”

  “In Chicago? Do you have the address?”

  “Yes, I have the address, but it’s not in Chicago. I met with her in the Northlands, a town called Thunder Bay.” Sarah provided the address and then dipped her hand in the pocket of her cardigan. “One more thing.”

  She withdrew a plastic baggie with a spoon inside and passed it to Yon.

  “What’s this?” Yon asked.

  “Mariah used this spoon to stir her coffee. A strand of her hair is in there, too.”

  Takoda’s jaw fell. “You have her DNA?”

  Sarah nodded.

  “Holy shit! That’s beautiful.”

  Beacon had access to the World Gene Registry. As soon as they could get the spoon and hair to a lab, Beacon would be able to ID Mariah’s true identity.

  Yon appeared equally excited. She hugged Sarah and asked, “What made you think to do this?”

  “I didn’t. My father did. He came with us to meet Mariah. He didn’t trust her, he thought she might be trying to scam us.”

  “Your father?” Takoda suddenly realized why Sarah had been so distraught when she mentioned her parents earlier. He turned to Yon. “We have to contact Hoot. Like, right now.”

  Beacon holding cell

  Cannon Ball, North Dakota, Carapach

  Damon crawled another foot and tentatively reached his arm in front of him. If his calculation was correct, his fingers would touch the wall. As he expected, his fingertips grazed the scratchy surface before his arm fully extended.

  Scooting the rest of the way on his knees, Damon continued forward until he was close enough to turn and sit with his back against the wall. Though he could not see in the complete darkness, he had now learned enough from his crawling, groping exploration to imagine the space in which he was held prisoner.

  The room was square and barren. The floor was concrete and the walls were made of cinderblocks. Though he could not touch the ceiling, the echoes in the room told Damon the ceiling was high and made of a dense material. The door had a slick metallic surface and was absent an inner handle. If there were windows or lights in the room, they were beyond his reach. The space was also devoid of control panels, electrical switches and outlets.

  At one point earlier, Damon had thought he heard a mechanical sound in the room, which he presumed was a camera or some other kind of surveillance device. For the umpteenth time, he wondered who was on the other end of the device, the Carapach police or Beacon. As he pondered the possibilities, he heard a click and then a voice from above. It was Cassidy on an intercom.

  “Hello, Damon.”

  In the four years since she had been assigned as his deputy, she had never addressed him by his first name. He looked up and said, “Well, well. The traitorous bitch speaks.”

  A faint orange glow appeared in the center of the ceiling. Slowly, it grew brighter. Damon looked away and shielded his eyes. Blinking rapidly, his eyes fought to adjust to the sudden light. Meanwhile, Cassidy spoke again.

  “Are you thirsty or hungry?”

  He was both but he wasn’t about to accept relief of either from her. Squinting up in the direction of her voice, Damon saw the camera he had heard earlier. Mounted next to it was the intercom. He shouted, “What the hell’s going on, Cassidy?”

  “Are you in pain? Do you need medical attention?”

  The knot on the back of his head throbbed, as did his swollen face. But he declined assistance. “I don’t need anything from you. Put whoever’s in control of your solenoids on the squawk box.”

  “I’m coming in to see you. Please do not try to escape or confront me. I do not want to hurt you.”

  Damon laughed at the caring tone in her voice. “You can switch off your compassion module, Cass. It won’t work on me. And don’t bother coming in, I’ve got nothing to say to you.” He received no response. Damon stood and shouted at the intercom. “Who’s in charge? I demand to speak with whoever’s in charge!”

  There was a clank at the door, followed by two more. Damon balled his fists. With his eyes now adjusted to the dimly lit room, he saw the door begin to move at the same time his ears heard its creaking hinges. He stepped forward and crouched into
a charging position. A new voice spilled from the intercom.

  “Don’t be a fool, Maj. Spiers.”

  It was a woman’s voice, an elderly woman’s. She had a British accent and her voice exuded authority. Damon stepped back and raised his gaze to the camera. Pointing toward the opening door, he said, “Tell your skanky spy to stay out or I’ll rip her face off.”

  “Come, now, Major. You’ll do nothing of the sort.”

  The matter-of-fact tone of the intercom response enraged him. Darting a look toward the door, he saw Cassidy come into view. The change in her appearance should not have surprised him, but it did. She wore a colorful, beaded tunic over leggings instead of her black commando uniform. Her blond hair lay upon her shoulders instead of swirled into her typical bun. Instead of the stern expression most often on her face, there was a glint of happiness in her eyes, reinforced by a soft smile on her lips.

  Behind her were three huge male androids. Makoa class. One carried a tray with food and water. Another bore a table. The last carried two chairs. There were no smiles on their faces. Only scowls that Damon read as, one wrong move and you’ll be spitting up teeth.

  Damon glared at Cassidy. “Wipe that smile off your face, and march your conniving ass right back out the door. Take your panty-waist servants with you.”

  His command had no effect on the approaching Cassidy, nor did his insult ruffle the Makoas. The latter proceeded to the center of the room where they set down the table, chairs and the tray. Cassidy halted a few feet from Damon and examined his face. Over her shoulder, she spoke to the Makoas. “Bring ice packs and pain medication.”

  “Don’t bother,” Damon said.

  The hulking androids ignored him and retreated from the room, closing the door on their way out. Damon briefly glanced at his former partner before turning to look up at the camera again. “I thought I was clear. I have nothing to say to her. If you have something to say to me, come down here and say it yourself.”