The Osiris Contingency

by Virginia Soenksen

  “Dosed with what?” Damian demanded, furious. “What have you been putting into my Agent?”

  “They’re calling it the Titan Strain, I believe,” Adrian went on, her tone as if she was announcing a party. “The next step in

  genetic modification. It has its risks but shows great potential.”

  “What kind of risk?” Damian asked, looking past Adrian at the medics.

  One of them stepped forward, answering, “In the animal testing phase, around sixty-eight-percent suffered organ failure as a

  result of treatment. But we have great hopes that with humans it will be less—”

  “No,” Damian interrupted. “If it’s that experimental, I won’t have Liane dosed with it.”

  Adrian tilted her head, saying softly, “I don’t recall asking you for permission. Neither did the Administrators when they signed the order.”

  Damian felt the blood drain from his face, and he protested, “Why wasn’t I told?”

  Adrian raised a perfect eyebrow. “Why do you think I’m here now? They seemed to think it would be better coming from me.” Looking over her shoulder, she said to the medics, “Go ahead.”

  Two largest ones started forward, while Liane tightened her hold on Damian’s arm, saying in a plea, “Damian…”

  He positioned himself protectively in front of her, eyes darting from man to man as he said, “Wait, I want to speak with the

  Administrators—”

  “Please move aside, sir,” another medic ordered, nearing them as he fit a dart into a narrow silver handgun. The medic moved to take aim at Liane, saying in far too cheery a voice, “We’ll tranq you if you resist.”

  Liane’s eyes went wide, the gun distracting her attention from the other two medics. It gave them the opportunity they needed to grasp hold of her arms to drag her away from her Handler. She clung to Damian, and he to her, until the medics wrenched her away from him.

  “Damian!” Liane screamed, her face stark with fear. He watched her, frozen in place. When she realized he wasn’t going to stop them she twisted to the left, wrenching her right arm free and punching one of the medics in the gut. The man doubled over, releasing her in time for her to kick the other in the knee and send him to the ground.

  A gunshot rang out in the arena, causing everyone to flinch

  before sudden silence descended. Damian turned towards the sound to see Adrian lowering her weapon, her eyes cold as she said, “Unless you want the next bullet in her head, get control of your Agent.”

  Damian looked back to Liane. She had backed away from all of them, still poised to fight. Her desperate eyes were on her Handler as she said, “I don’t want to be modified.”

  “Explain it to her, Damian,” Adrian ordered. “Tell her what it means when the Administration orders something done.”

  Hating his Handler, hating everything, Damian looked to Liane and said quietly, “No order may be disobeyed; you know that.”

  Shock shone in her eyes alongside the fear. “You’re just going to let them do it?”

  “I can’t stop an order,” he said angrily.

  Liane was near tears as she shouted, “I don’t want to be

  modified! I don’t want to die!”

  Something heavy and hard was pressed into Damian’s hand. He looked down to see that Adrian had handed him the

  tranquilizer gun. She leaned in, murmuring, “Remember our code, Damian. She’s just an instrument for us to use, and disposable if need be. If you can’t abide by that code, then perhaps you’ve grown disposable as well…”

  His eyes locked with Adrian, pleading for her to stop. But there was no mercy, no sympathy in her emerald eyes; just a vicious desire to harm. With a jolt of realization, he understood that she was enjoying herself, enjoying every bit of his helplessness and Liane’s fear. His gaze drifted to the medics, who were watching him with hands on tranquilizer guns of their own. That was enough to tell him that if he tried to fight or uttered one more word of protest, they would go after him.

  Damian looked back at the weapon in his hand for a moment, then leveled it at Liane. She stared at him, disbelief flooding her mismatched eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, unable to meet her gaze.

  “I am, too,” she said, soft and sad. “For trusting you.”

  A high-pitched sound echoed through the arena, and Liane let out a yelp as the tranquilizer dart pierced the skin of her upper arm. It only took a second for her to stumble, her gaze going glassy. Damian dropped the gun and went to her, catching her

  before her legs went out. For a moment, her hand clenched around the lapel of his jacket, eyelashes fluttering as she

  struggled to stay conscious. But then her fingers relaxed, her body going limp. From behind them, Adrian ordered, “Hurry and get her to the medic bay. That dart won’t keep her asleep for long.”

  Damian shifted his grip on Liane, her head resting on his shoulder as he brought an arm under her knees. He looked down at her relaxed face for a moment, wishing there was a way out, a way to stop all of it from happening…

  Knowing that there was none, he followed Adrian and the

  medics out of the arena.

  They led him to the back of the medic bay, passing through several locked doors and down a small set of stairs to a room Damian had never seen before. The circular chamber was largely empty, save for a padded, cruciform table in the center. Rolling trays near it held vials of pearly fluid, which Damian eyed as he laid Liane on the table. He adjusted her head, smoothing back her hair before stepping back to make way for the medics. They got to work, strapping her arms and body down and attaching sensors to monitor her vital signs. Her eyelids were fluttering again as they started an IV line, and as Damian took his place by Adrian he asked, “You mean for her to be awake during this?”

  “It works best that way, apparently,” Adrian said, leaning back against the wall with crossed arms. “Better to see if the subject is responding normally or if the Strain is beginning to cause organ failure.”

  Damian said nothing, just clenched his fists and ground his teeth together until his jaw ached.

  He watched Liane wake up, her head shifting as she fought her way back to consciousness. As soon as her eyes were open, they darted around, taking in the cavernous room and the medics in white crowding around her. She fought against the restraints, though she was strapped down too tightly to manage any real movement. Her voice was shaking as she called out, “Stop, please; I don’t want to be modified.”

  Damian closed his eyes but was unable to block out her voice as it rose to a frantic cry, “Let me go—I don’t want to die! Damian, help me!”

  The chief medic approached the table with a large syringe,

  connecting it to the IV in Liane’s arm and slowly pushing the

  experimental serum into her vein. Liane wasn’t pleading anymore; she was sobbing, tears spilling over the corners of her eyes. Damian turned away from the sight, unable to stomach it.

  “Watch,” Adrian said softly. “If she lives through the first dose, her odds for survival increase.”

  Damian looked over his shoulder, every muscle in his body painfully rigid. Liane was breathing fast, the monitors beeping wildly along with her frenetic heartbeat. Without warning, her body seized, spasming involuntarily. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and white foam began bubbling up around her clenched teeth.

  Before he realized what he was doing, Damian charged forward towards the table. Medics leaped to stop him, several pushing him back as he struggled and shouted, “Stop—you’re killing her!”

  Adrian moved in front of him, grasping his chin and forcing him to look at her as she asked in warning, “Do you want to be strapped down alongside her?”

  Breathing hard, Damian went silent and stopped struggling against the medics. Adrian watched him for a moment, then

  ordered the medics, “Let him go; he won’t interfere again.”

  Wrenching free of their grasp, Damian looked at where
Liane lay, focusing on her as she gave a few more jerks against the

  restraints and went still, eyes closed as if in sleep. Beside the

  gurney, the beeps of the monitors returned to normal.

  Damian looked to the medics, demanding, “Does this mean she’ll live?”

  The head medic checked her with brisk movements, saying, “Vitals are strong. That’s a good sign that her body is accepting the serum. When she wakes again, we’ll begin the second dose.”

  Damian stared at the man. “How many doses do you mean to give her tonight?”

  “Ten, sir.”

  Damian felt his jaw clench again. Pulling up a nearby chair, he settled in to wait.

  It went on for hours. Liane would wake just long enough for her eyes to fill with fear and pain, and then they would dose her again and send her into yet another round of seizures and

  unconsciousness. Damian stayed by her side throughout, watching over her as she lay fighting for her life. Adrian came and went, lingering in the background for the most part but occasionally coming forward to brush a hand across Damian’s back or through his hair. He shrugged her off every time, unwilling to speak. The only ones he would talk to were the medics, asking them questions about the Strain and how it would affect Liane.

  “Of course, it won’t be like this after the Strain fully modifies her genetic structure,” one medic explained after the third dose. “If she survives, it will just be about maintaining her serum levels. Those maintenance shots will be as painless as any immunization.”

  “And her abilities?” Damian asked. “What will those be like?”

  “We know from early tests that her speed and strength will

  increase exponentially. But the Strain has unlimited potential,

  especially in such a promising subject.”

  Damian lapsed into silence as Liane seized once more.

  Hours later, near morning, Damian stood next to the gurney as Liane stirred and opened her eyes. She blinked several times, her eyelashes starred together with tears as she looked around in faint surprise; as if she couldn’t quite believe she was still alive. When she spotted Damian, she asked in an exhausted, hoarse voice, “Is it over?”

  Damian reached out and gripped her hand, hoping that she wouldn’t feel him shaking in relief to see her awake and speaking. “Almost.”

  Liane’s eyes welled up, and she choked out, “Am I going to die?”

  Shaking his head, he answered, “No. You’ve been handling the doses as well as could be expected.”

  “Then they’re done?” she asked, hopeful. “We can go home?”

  “There’s one more procedure,” he said as the medics wheeled a surgical cart over to the gurney. “Something that will help you.”

  Looking too shattered to care, she asked, “What will it do?”

  As the medics selected several thin tools from the cart, the

  silvery blades glinting in the light, Damian said softly, “It’s called a mind-wipe, and it will make all this seem like a bad dream.”

  Liane closed her eyes, quietly accepting yet more inescapable pain as the medics moved into position around her head to begin.

  The medics put her in an induced coma afterward, explaining that it would give her time to recover physically from the damage. They kept her in a clean room, dim blue lights shining down on her as she lay unconscious with blonde hair spilling across the white pillow and sheets. From behind a one-way mirror, Damian watched her sleep. He had been awake for forty-eight hours; though exhausted, and though he knew he should leave and rest, he was still unwilling to turn away. He was tired enough that it was difficult to sort through all that had happened, to articulate even to himself the emotions churning within him.

  But one thing he was certain of; he had never in his life felt this kind of rage.

  Behind him, the door opened, and he was unsurprised to see Adrian enter the observation chamber. She walked over to join him at the window into the clean room, commenting, “Well, you must be pleased. She came through that swimmingly.”

  “I’m sure that must disappoint you,” he said, refusing to look at her.

  “Not at all,” Adrian smiled. “An Agent dosed with the Titan Strain will be a great asset to us. Invaluable, even. I very much look forward to seeing how she will progress now.”

  “Why her?” he demanded. “Why mine?”

  Adrian’s smile fell away. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet and sincere, “Because you needed a reminder of what our goals really are. Not climbing the ranks here or even in Libertas. We are greater than that, Damian, and our destiny is wielding real power in this country. That’s what matters; not some disposable soldier.” Her eyes drifted through the window to Liane as she added, “If you want to keep her, don’t lose sight of that again. Do we understand one another?”

  Damian looked back at Liane as he said, “Perfectly.”

  Adrian smiled again, leaning in to rest her chin on his shoulder as she murmured, “Ruling is never easy. But you’ll learn how, and I’ll always be here to teach you.”

  After she left, he stood in silence within the observation

  chamber, seeing his reality with unclouded eyes. He had never felt like a prisoner within the Agency, but now he could see nothing, but the cage Adrian had built around him.

  Liane woke from the mind-wipe several days later, confused and weak but alive. Her mind took time to repair itself, full of

  gaping holes. She was...different afterward. Though she had no memory of the dosing, she was quieter, slower to show any

  emotion at all. As if the scars were still there even if she didn’t

  realize it. Privately Damian worried, but in public, he focused on the astonishing physical changes that the Strain had wrought.

  Liane had been impressive before; afterward, she was

  extraordinary. She surpassed every record that the Agency had and shot to the top of the ranks so fast that the entire

  Administration took note.

  One day, as Damian watched her fight in training, he realized that Adrian had done more than show him his powerlessness. In dosing Liane with the Strain, she had given him the opportunity to be free of her. He began to formulate a plan, one that would see his former Handler dead at the hand of his own Agent.

  It was a long con and would be neither fast nor easy. In a way, the planning was just as satisfying as he knew the kill would be. To meet with Adrian week after week, pretending to be on her side, and all the while visualizing the moment when Liane would put a bullet through her skull...that was enjoyable. And every time Adrian ordered rather than asked, or struck him in a rage, it only reignited his desire to kill her.

  Liane was the cornerstone of the plan. He’d been hard on her during training, but that was nothing compared with the

  expectations he had for her as an Agent. He demanded perfection, focus, and unwavering obedience, all in anticipation of the day he would order her to take on the Prime Minister as her next target.

  The plan hinged on him, too, of course. He’d need to become Director first, to be free from all oversight as well as have access to the information and resources that would make it possible to assassinate a person of such high rank. As the years passed and success came easy, the dream of them succeeding became so studied, so clear within his thoughts, that it had seemed like a certainty rather than a possibility.

  And then Liane had rebelled and escaped, run from him

  because he had lied to her. It had happened so fast, so chaotically, that he didn’t have the opportunity to tell her anything about Adrian or his vision of their future. Without Liane as a critical component of the equation, the vision faded into an

  impossibility.

  That’s why he would bring her back; because after she did this one final task, they would both be free. Free to do whatever they wanted, free to destroy anyone or anything in their way...free to be happy, perhaps.

  Within his flat, Damian poured himself another
drink, wondering how much it would take to burn away the bitter taste of regret that arose in his throat.

  CHAPTER 22

  Liane woke before dawn the next morning. She hadn’t slept well; her mind had been in a whir, caught up in wonderings about the Strain, Damian, and the future. In the few hours in which she had slept, she’d dreamed of the end of the world, of London disintegrating into a shower of rubble and fire. So, it was with near exhaustion she pulled herself out of bed. Seth’s breathing was deep and even as she dressed, and he didn’t stir when she left the room, closing the door behind her.

  The rest of the bunker was still and silent, and Liane passed no one on her way to the hatch to the world above. Outside it was chilly, the beginnings of frost touching the scrubby grass that grew through cracks in the road pavement. Liane headed away from the bunker to one of the nearby tenements, climbing up the rusted fire escape until she was on the roof looking twenty stories down onto the darkened city. There was the hint of a sunrise on the far horizon, a sliver of vivid pink shining against the clouds. She sat on the edge of the building, her legs hanging down against the concrete wall. Only then did she pull one of the burner cells from her jacket pocket, dialing the number she wanted and then holding it to her ear.

  On the other end of the line, a deep, sleepy voice said, “Yes?”

  “Hello, Damian,” Liane said, unable but to feel a small sense of comfort at the sound of his voice.

  There was a pause, then he said with sudden alertness, “Liane?”

  “Don’t bother with a trace,” she said. “I’m using a burner, and the signal is scrambled.”

  There was a rustle of sheets as he sat up in bed, and then he asked, “I don’t suppose you’re calling me to apologize?”

  “Apologize to you?” she repeated, incredulous. “For what,

  exactly?”

  “Well you did shoot me six times,” he pointed out.

  “And you tried to drug me in order to wipe my memory,” Liane retorted. “I’d say we’re even. And turn off the tracer; I can hear it on the line.”