The Deaths of Tao Page 18

  You have no choice.

  For the second time in an hour, Roen was whisked back to that night at the helipad when he had had to shoot Sonya. He remembered her final words as she told him to kill her. He had tried to bury those memories, but now they came rushing back. Roen felt a chill wash over him as he leaned against the window.

  “I can’t do it again.”

  You must. I am sorry.

  “We can rescue him! Just like we did with Jill and...”

  Roen couldn’t finish the thought. Actually no, they didn’t rescue Sonya. Her life was taken from this world by his own blood-washed hands. He killed one of his best friends, and she thanked him for it. All this a sacrifice for the Quasing, because their lives were more precious than a human’s. He had vowed afterward that he wouldn’t do it again.

  The painful truth was, this was the right call. The situation was different last time. He had the entire strength of the Prophus at his back when he had tried to rescue Sonya and Jill. And still he had failed. Now, with only a ragtag group of exhausted men, they had no chance. Wuehler was as good as dead. And with him, Ramez. Unless he did something right now.

  Roen looked over at Faust. “Abort. Call the dogs off.”

  Faust paused mid-sentence. He scowled, turned his back to Roen, and continued giving orders. Roen swiped the comm from Faust’s hand and turned it off. Faust drew his pistol and aimed it between Roen’s eyes.

  “I’m the second. I’m in charge,” he snarled.

  “You know it’s a lose-lose situation. You’re not sending our guys to their death.” Roen paused. “We have one option.”

  For a second, Faust looked like he was about to pull the trigger, then he slammed his pistol into the drywall. “Damn!” he screamed.

  Roen put his hand on Faust’s shoulders. “We don’t have much time. You were his guy. I think you should do it.”

  Faust shook his head. “That’s a long shot for a pistol. I’m not comfortable at that range.”

  Roen gritted his teeth and glanced out the window. It was a very long shot. He wasn’t sure he could do it either. Wuehler was almost to the van. If they didn’t get a shot off in the next few seconds, Ramez was lost. Roen didn’t want to be the one to do it, but it seemed they had no choice.

  Roen pulled out his flashlight and handed it to Faust. “When I get the shot off, I want you to flash it on and off at the street for five seconds.”

  “Why?” Faust asked. “Won’t it just call attention to us?”

  Roen took aim at Wuehler’s head. “Yeah, but Ramez will see it too. I hope you can recover fast from a transfer because we’re going to have to make a break for it while you puke your guts out.”

  TWENTY

  OUT OF SUBJECTS

  Control of mankind is a simple theory, yet complicated in practice. Like most primitive but sentient beings, they seek to understand what is beyond their grasp. That is the void that the Genjix fill. That is why it is fitting that, for over a thousand years, we assumed control of humanity through the Papal States. The rule of Rome is shrouded in irony and truth.

  Zoras

  “Time of death: 21.17.”

  Enzo stared at the corpse floating in the vat. They were close. It had been five days since they sacrificed the annoying old man. When Myyk’s life signs had hit the six hour mark, Chow had declared the test a success and popped the champagne bottles. Enzo had reported his accomplishment to the Council, telling them that they were moving on to the final phase.

  Word had spread like wildfire that Enzo’s project had successfully created a functioning habitat. The next logical step was procreation, something that had been impossible on this planet until now. Initially, there was a surge of Quasing volunteers for the next step. Every Genjix not vested in their vessel wanted to partake in the experiment. It was a historic event after all.

  However, during the second test, Myyk’s life signs faded, and Chow had the unfortunate job of notifying Enzo during breakfast. The failure leaked, and within hours, the volunteers had disappeared. It made Enzo look foolish. Receiving the smug looks of disappointment on the Council’s faces was one of most humiliating experiences he’d ever had to endure. He passed his anger and wrath onto Chow and his team.

  Since then, Enzo had not left the research lab. For three days now, he worked Chow’s team around the clock, and short of actually carrying a whip, pushed them as hard as he could for results. There were now seven vats being experimented on at all times as the scientists tweaked and synthesized the formula. Seven formulas. Seven vats. Seven Prophus test subjects being sacrificed continually. Each formula was varied only slightly. Just like the mix of air for humans must be perfect, so too must the synthesized environment for the Quasing. They burned through subjects at a faster rate than could be transferred from the internment camp. Enzo didn’t care though. He wanted results and his pride would not be satisfied until he got them.

  “Life signs in four are fluctuating,” one of the techs called out.

  Enzo’s eyes darted to four, just glimpsing the Quasing inside spasm, his membrane expanding and contracting in a desperate jerky way. This scene was common now. An hour earlier, vat two’s subject had had the same reaction. Six hours before that, vat one actually exploded.

  “That’s it,” Chow yelled. “I want that entire strain shut down.”

  Enzo waited until the beeping sound of the subject’s life signs became a steady tone.

  That subject’s name was Hume. I have never interacted with him, and he was never a Quasing of importance, though in his confession, he said one of his vessels invented the Hittite method of wool dyeing.

  “I don’t know what that means, and I really don’t care.”

  Nor do I. He was a worthless Quasing. Forty-nine subjects in three days. You have now killed more Quasing than any other human. A dubious distinction.

  “Chow,” Enzo called. “Drain vat four. Pull the hybrid strain from one.”

  The head researcher fell to one knee. “Father, that was our last subject.”

  “I ordered a shipment from the camp days ago,” Enzo snapped. “Why aren’t they here yet? I can Fedex a yak to Greenland in two days. Why can’t I get my prisoners here in my own country?”

  Chow lowered his head. “Forgive me, Father. I do not know. The internment camp lost contact with another supply van two hours after they departed. There is an ongoing search now.”

  “Have you sent for more?”

  “No, Father.”

  Enzo suppressed the urge to reach out and choke the life out of Chow. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go get me more Prophus!”

  This is disturbing news.

  “Of course it is! How can our head scientist be such an idiot?”

  I am referring to a missing convoy filled with what should be thirty Prophus prisoners.

  Enzo shrugged. “That’s Newgard’s concern anyhow.”

  That is the fourth shipment out of the last six that have gone missing.

  “How many?”

  Four of six. The Prophus must have engaged us in Tibet.

  Enzo sprinted out of the research lab toward his office, quickly outpacing his staff. By the time they caught up, he was already pulling up the reports of the missing shipments and calling the commandant of the internment camp.

  “Father,” Newgard was saying on the comm. “My scouts report a large contingent of Prophus operating in this area. They have been intercepting prisoners. At dawn this morning, a team of Prophus breached our western walls and another sixty escaped. I am shoring up the defenses and asking for reinforcements to address these incursions.”

  Sixty Prophus. Escaped. Enzo stared open-mouthed at the screen, and then put his fist through it. That idiot! Enzo looked up at his terrified staff.

  “Assemble all research heads,” he yelled. “I want the Chinese governor here within the hour and a division ready to mobilize by tonight to Tibet.”

  Newgard is under Vinnick. He will see it as encroachment onto his auth
ority.

  “Then maybe that old fool should handle his resources better. It became my authority when the failure of his internment camp affected my program.”

  Vinnick was one of the most vocal opponents to his standing in the council. Enzo had originally written the ancient man off but was surprised when nearly half the pushback came from the Russian. At one point, Vinnick had dared propose to take the ProGenesis project away from him, saying it was too important for one of Enzo’s experience. Enzo had smiled at the old man's lack of respect for his standing but vowed to avenge that insult.

  Now with the siege of the internment camp affecting ProGenesis, this was the perfect opportunity to pay Vinnick back. Enzo could have his forces mobilized and in Tibet far quicker than Vinnick could. And after he defeated the Prophus, control of the internment camp would be his. Then the Council would have no choice but to acknowledge his standing.

  You play a dangerous game. Vinnick has greater financial resources than us. His influence with the Russian government is stronger than ours with China.

  “As you’ve often said, Holy One, standing is the only currency. And the only way to obtain standing is to be the most important cog in the machine. He tried to steal the ProGenesis project out from under me. I shall take the internment camp from him.”

  I approve of your ambition, but tread carefully.

  “I will prove myself Vinnick’s better.”

  It took the rest of the day to complete preparations to depart Qingdao. His scientists were ordered to continue their tests and to keep him updated, and he instructed Amanda to file a separate report. He had little faith in Chow and was prepared to yank him off the lead of the project, regardless of whether he was a vessel or not. It was clear to Enzo now that many vessels were unworthy of their blessing.

  Within a short amount of time, he had stripped down his available resources to create an army nearly a thousand strong. Two thousand more would be en route within the week. Newgard had claimed that the Prophus had ten thousand men on the ground in Tibet. Newgard was a fool. All projections of Prophus strength had their global capacity at less than ten thousand. For them to muster every single man to Tibet would be an egregious tactical blunder. Besides, hiding ten thousand men wasn’t easy, even in a backwater place like Tibet.

  Reliable intel from Tibet confirmed a sizable uptick in commercial travel over the past few weeks, estimated at somewhere between two to three thousand above norm. With three thousand men at his disposal on top of the one thousand already in a fortified defensive position, Enzo held the definite tactical advantage.

  By nightfall, a small Chinese military fleet would transport their forces to Lhasa Airport in Tibet. From there, it would be another five hundred kilometers on the ground through thick forested areas to the isolated internment camp.

  Enzo’s blood boiled with excitement as he oversaw the last of the men loaded onto transports. This was what he imagined his life would be like once he became a vessel. Being chained to a desk was such a slow and painful death. This was his true calling, and Enzo was determined to become the greatest vessel the Genjix had ever seen.

  TWENTY-ONE

  REINFORCEMENTS

  In a way, it was the first great Quasing war, though we played both sides. When the Grand Council deemed migration into Cro-Magnons and Neanderthals our next revolutionary step, all Quasing moved toward one of those two camps.

  There was much debate regarding which species the Quasing should migrate to. Neanderthals were stronger and more ferocious, and were also easier to control. The ancient humans were more intelligent and better runners, but many of our kind considered their intelligence redundant.

  To decide which species would become the Quasing’s new home, for tens of thousands of years, we pitted the two sides against each other until one species remained. This was the precursor of the Genjix doctrine that conflict is the key to innovation and evolution on this planet.

  Tao

  Roen tossed his bag onto the torn-up plaid couch where springs stuck out of a cushion, and plopped down in an exhausted heap. The couch felt as lumpy as it looked. He yawned and surveyed their new digs. This was the only safe house left in all of Taiwan, if it could even be called a safe house. If they lost this one, the team would be out on the streets like all the other homeless people squatting in the city.

  He leaned back, put his feet up, and felt the sharp jab of an exposed spring in the small of his back. He was so tired he didn’t care if it was a rusty nail. The escape from the market went as smoothly as a disaster movie. Roen’s shot with the pistol hit true. Under different circumstances, he would’ve been impressed. Even Tao complimented his marksmanship. Wuehler died instantly from a bullet through the head. Ramez rose immediately from his body and floated toward Faust’s blinking flashlight. Moments later, Faust was on the floor puking his dinner out. Everything went according to plan for those ten seconds.

  Then all hell broke loose, a barrage of small arms fire ripping through the exterior wall of the building. Faust was in no shape to do much of anything. Roen actually saw tears streaming down his face as he writhed in pain. For some reason, he thought a tough guy like Faust would have handled it better. Roen ended up carrying Faust on his back as they escaped the old apartment building, down an old fire escape, across an alley, and finally down through a sewage tunnel where they hid for the night until Roen felt it was safe enough to leave.

  See to the men.

  Tao was right. Wuehler was dead and Faust’s life had just been turned upside down. The transition was not easy, especially while on a mission. It was up to him now to lead the team. The men would always follow a host. The rest of the team’s retreat from the safe house went just as poorly. Shock units weren’t nimble. The guys grabbed every weapon they had on hand and ignored almost everything else, leaving behind clothes, toiletries, food, and even some of the computers.

  “Leaving the food and schematics was okay, but God forbid they leave a gun or ammo.”

  They brought what they thought was necessary. You cannot blame them for following their training.

  Right now, three men were missing. Rich and Will fell covering the team’s retreat from the lower market. Ashish was missing in action, and the team held onto hope that he’d show up later. The rest of the guys had assorted minor injuries, the most severe being a grazing wound to Stan’s leg. They were lucky; it could have been much worse. Local police bands were on high alert, forcing them to skulk through back streets. It took the team six hours to get three klicks across Taipei to this safe house. It was a minor miracle that the group of brawny foreigners wasn’t picked up by the authorities.

  Everything had happened so fast Roen hadn’t had time to process everything yet. How were they discovered so fast? They had just settled in a few weeks ago. No one anticipated such a strong response from the Genjix. Their intel on Taiwan didn’t indicate that the enemy even had a military presence on the island. Considering the local police was working hand in glove with the Genjix, their reports were critically mistaken. Thankfully, Tao’s steady guidance got them through this crisis.

  The irritating needle sticking into Roen’s back began to hurt. He lifted his weary head and decided to show a little leadership. He should take charge and help his men move what was left of their supplies. He muffled the sigh crawling up his throat and willed his exhausted body up. Faust was on the rooftop getting acquainted with his new until-death-do-they-part friend. Jim was backtracking their escape while Hutch stood watch on the ground level.

  That left Roen with three guys. Every single one of them looked exhausted. They were lucky the Genjix never caught onto their trail. He doubted any of them would get far if discovered. Now would be a good time to be a leader. He wished he had read their bios more closely. He didn’t even know all their names.

  Grant is the chubby one and the best cook. Stan is the nerdy-looking engineer and the most lethal with the rifle. Ray is the tall one with the crooked receding widow’s peak. Smartest of th
e bunch.

  “Too many names.” Roen picked himself up and went to go help the one stacking the ammo cases. “Who’s crooked hairline guy again?”

  I just told you: Ray. Worst memory ever.

  He walked up to Ray, who was struggling with an ammo case and helped him carry it to a corner. He checked the contents inside. “How many did we leave behind?”

  “Three, sir,” Ray replied, eyes glazed over like the walking dead.

  He was about to pick up the next crate when Roen put a hand on his shoulder. “Stand down, Ray. I’ll take over from here.”

  Roen dragged over the remaining crates and ordered the rest of the men to get some rest while he stood watch. Within minutes, they were all asleep. Roen leaned against the wall and kept watch out the window. They were in a corner unit of an old apartment complex. In its heyday, it had been a fully-stocked safe house. However, like all other budget casualties, the place had gone into disuse. He had hoped to restock their supplies since they left most of it behind, but the place was bare.

  Twenty minutes later, Faust and Hutch returned with takeout American food: pineapple and chicken pizzas. He woke the team up, and they sat around the makeshift cardboard dinner table eating quietly while Roen continued keeping watch.

  Just as they finished up, a hooded stranger burst into the room, holding an unconscious Jim. The team immediately reacted, guns trained at the stranger.

  “How did I miss that?”

  He did not come from the front entrance.

  “This building has no rear. The roof then?”

  Carrying a body over the rooftops?

  Faust, pistol pointing at the stranger, stepped forward. “Let him go now and put your hands up. Slowly.” When the figure bent forward to put Jim down, Faust raised his voice again. “No sudden movements. Drop him and step away. Now!”

  With a perceptible sigh, the hooded figure let go of Jim, who promptly plopped face first onto the ground.

  “I’m closing the door behind me,” the hooded man replied, motioning at the entrance.