The Rebirths of Tao Read online

  When the Great Betrayal swept across the world, Roen was smuggled from the Queen’s Hospital to the Cook Islands to the same remote Prophus-run recovery facility at which Marco was staying. Roen had tried to thank the guy for keeping Jill safe. Instead of being gracious about it, Roen received a good-natured lecture from the egotistical jerk about how he should have been at her side instead of gallivanting around the world like a bachelor, and how she was too good for him. He might have let that slide, if Marco hadn’t continued on about how once he recovered from his injury, he would teach Roen how to act like a real man. And somehow, the Brit had had the audacity and glibness to say all of that in an affable manner.

  The two had exchanged harsh words while both were wrapped up like mummies. It was a sad spectacle. Nothing looks more pathetic than two recently near-dead men getting into a fight. The two pushed a seventy-four year-old nurse to her limit when she had to restrain them both at the same time. They got into it three more times before Roen was finally well enough to leave and rejoin his family.

  God he hated that guy.

  The worst part was that Jill and Marco had kept in touch. The truth was, Roen was to this day jealous of Marco, not only because of the man’s close friendship with his wife, but also his suave ways, money, and charm. The damn guy had been dealt all the good cards in life. And now he was good friends with Roen’s wife. To top it all off, Roen had to grudgingly admit that Marco was better than him at just about everything.

  Jill went to the infirmary to retrieve the necessary supplies while Roen and Marco sat across from each other in the living room. She shot them a worried glance before disappearing around the corner. They sat in silence for a few awkward moments, Roen staring intently at Marco, and Marco acting like he was alone in his own house. They began speaking at the same time.

  “So how’s our bird holding up?” Marco asked.

  “What’s going on out there?” Roen said.

  Another awkward pause followed.

  “Well, you first,” Roen said.

  “A gentleman gladly waits,” Marco replied.

  Do not bite on everything. Let it go, Roen. You have bigger things to worry about.

  That’s what Tao would say if he was here. His friend’s phantom voice in his head came across loud and clear. He took the imaginary voice’s advice and elected to remain civil. “Jill’s good. She’s prospering in her command post.”

  Marco nodded. “I don’t get to catch up with her as much as I’d like – or as much as you think I do – but I hear good things about her when I drop by Command. By the way, old chap, could you hand me a glass of water? I’m parched.”

  Roen looked at the red stains on Marco’s shirt. He went to the kitchen and returned with two cups, a pitcher of water, and a bottle of scotch. He found Marco limping around the room, examining the cheap knick-knacks they displayed to make the house look homier without actually giving away any personal information. Of course, none of the pictures were of the family.

  “You’re dripping blood all over my imported carpet,” Roen said, putting the tray down on the table.

  Marco looked down at the floor. “Swedish?”

  Roen nodded.

  “I hope you didn’t pay for it.”

  “Cheap. Moving sale.”

  “You paid too much, then.”

  Marco brightened when he saw the bottle of scotch, the glass of water now forgotten. He gave the twelve-year a nearly imperceptible upturn of the nose before taking a glass.

  “Do you need ice?” Roen asked.

  Marco sniffed. “A touch of water will do.”

  Roen poured them both a drink. They sat back down in awkward silence, both raising their glasses only slightly to acknowledge the other.

  “So how’s the boy?” Marco continued. “Rumor mill says he might be the second Prophus Adonis.”

  “Who’s the first?”

  Marco raised his glass again and grinned.

  Roen rolled his eyes. He had walked straight into that one. “He’s doing very well, but I don’t want him to be an Adonis.”

  “Aren’t you too old now to still be full of self-loathing?”

  “I just want what’s best for my son, and being a hardcore Prophus agent isn’t it. If I could get him away from all Quasing and have him live a normal life, I would. Unfortunately, fate has other plans for him. How is the war going in the rest of the world?”

  Marco took a sip and shook his head. Roen wasn’t sure if it was because of the bad news or the bad scotch. “Well, old boy, the world is in a bit of a jam. Seems aliens as a whole are just a step below taxes on the world popularity scale.”

  Roen grunted. “At least the Quasing are still above politicians then.”

  “I would put them about even,” said Marco. “Right now, Asia is a total loss and Europe a powder keg.”

  The bad news continued to pile on. Between Asia solidly behind the Genjix and most of Europe and North America hunting all aliens, the only relatively safe zones for the Prophus were South America and Africa, both of which had so many problems they couldn’t care less about millions-of-years-old visitors from outer space.

  The rift between the two factions had precipitated tensions across definitive lines, and now countries were picking sides and preparing for global conflict. The world was on the cusp of World War III, which played right into the Genjix’s hands, and the Prophus were smack dab in the middle of it all. The worst part was that nobody wanted the Prophus on their side. They were their own little island about to be crushed between several juggernauts trying to crack the planet in two.

  “A little histrionic, no?” Roen said when Marco finished.

  The Brit shrugged. “Well, while you’ve been playing Lost Boys in your forest, I’ve been out on the front line.” For the first time, Roen noticed the man’s overly confident facade crack a smidgeon. “It’s rough out there, Roen. Consider yourself blessed for having this.” He gestured at their surroundings. “I haven’t had a place I could call a home for more than five years now.”

  “What about your estates?”

  Marco shook his head. “All under my sister’s name. Haven’t seen my family either. Wasn’t able to make mother’s funeral. Couldn’t risk having my family linked to an alien.” Anguish flashed across his face. He picked up his glass of scotch and raised it to Roen again. “But that’s the life we lead, right, old boy?”

  Roen nodded. It seemed not even someone like Marco could avoid the new Quasing-hating landscape. At least Roen’s parents had been completely insulated from his extra-terrestrial activities. He didn’t realize how easy he’d had it compared to the others. Marco was right, though. They had been blessed here in the Pacific Northwest, partially because of the tight ship Jill ran, and partially because the only sort of action that ever happened here was refugees passing through.

  “Are you two behaving?” Jill asked, coming up the stairs.

  Marco held up his glass of scotch. “I have my remedy right here, love. However, I’d like to get to that scout team post haste. Those Interpol boys are – how do you say it out here – circling the wagons in Ontario. There’s no time to waste.”

  “The Keeper considers your operation high priority,” Jill said.

  Marco struggled to stand. “Very well then. Here’s what I need. Weapons, ammunition, unmarked cash, a crate of the finest whiskey you can drum up here in the backwaters, six operatives, and a vehicle. Preferably a German convertible but I’ll settle for a Jaguar if I really must suffer.”

  “That’s a large operation.” Roen frowned. “What are you guys running? Six is a tough order to fill. We can’t spare those numbers. Do you need incendiaries?”

  Marco shook his head. “Small arms fire will do.”

  Jill ticked off her fingers. “I can send my doctor, Ines, and two bodies. Roen, what cars can we spare?”

  “I got that Oldsmobile in the back, which should – big emphasis on should – get him to Ontario.”

  Jill smiled. “There
you go, Marco.”

  He sniffed. “At least it’s not another old Fiat.”

  Roen ticked off the head-count in his head. “I don’t count three. Ines, Hurley, and you? I don’t like this at all.”

  “No,” Jill said. “Not me. I need to run Ops. You’re going, Roen.”

  “No!” both Roen and Marco shouted at once.

  “I… this is unacceptable. Disastrous,” Marco sputtered.

  To Roen’s surprise, it seemed Marco actually disliked Roen more than Roen disliked him. This was a rare display of outright outrage. In a way, Roen was glad he got under the arrogant man’s skin. After all, the guy went out of his way to offend Roen every chance he got, while at the same time pretending to do it innocuously.

  “Jill, be rational,” Marco raised his voice. “You know what happened the last time we had to be in the same room together, not to mention Egypt.”

  Roen scowled and stood up. “You want to bring that up again?”

  “Yes. Yes, I do, you stubborn oaf,” Marco said.

  The two of them stared at each other across the coffee table. Marco threw back his half-full glass of scotch. Not to be outdone, Roen did the same. He was almost successful at keeping the burning climbing up his throat from showing on his face.

  “Shut it, both of you,” Jill snapped. “I don’t like this any better than you, but that’s our orders. I have a lot more to babysit than you two, so figure it out.”

  “I’m no longer running missions away from my family. At least not for more than one night.” Roen shook his head stubbornly. “We agreed on this after DC.”

  “Keeper’s orders,” sighed Jill. “I don’t like it either, Roen, but we’re low on manpower. It’s been over ten years since she’s made this sort of request. Make an exception, hon. It’s important; lives are at stake.”

  “I still don’t like this,” Roen growled.

  “That makes three of us,” Marco growled back. “Ahngr thinks this is a shit idea.”

  “Well, live with it,” Jill snapped. “Roen, Marco’s the host. He holds command.” She stuck a finger in his face. “You follow orders.” She turned to Marco. “If word gets back to me that you’re mistreating my husband, I will rain holy hell upon you. You two got it?”

  “Yes, Jill,” they both answered grudgingly.

  “Good. Get to work.” She reached out and gave Roen a kiss on the mouth. “Thanks for being understanding. Now behave, mister. I mean it.”

  He grunted as she walked out of the room. Finally, Roen sighed and looked at the Brit. “Guess we’re stuck with each other.”

  Marco gnashed his teeth in a very ungentlemanly way. “Just follow my orders, Roen. Remember, you’re under me.”

  “Kiss my ass, Marco. What’s the plan?”

  Marco sighed. “It’s a twelve-hour drive to the Idaho border. Why don’t you ride with me and I’ll fill you in?”

  9

  The Russian Campaign

  I first came to standing among the Quasing in India when I, along with Chiyva, laid the foundation for Hinduism. After that, sensing opportunity with the unrest in the Median Empire, I moved west and joined a young prince named Cyrus who rebelled against his father.

  Together, we overthrew the Medes and ushered in the first Persian Empire. The region was wracked by strife, though, and his empire was short-lived. However, with this experience, the Council hypothesized that humanity’s conflicts were a great catalyst for their innovations.

  Zoras

  * * *

  Austin died three days after the cowardly ambush at the Church of the Disposition of the Robe. Any time an Adonis Vessel passed, the loss was widely grieved. Any time it was someone from Enzo’s Assembly, his inner circle, justice demanded vengeance. Any leniency he might have given Vinnick was now off the table. To strike at one of his Hatchery siblings was a personal affront to him. To strike at Enzo himself was treason.

  It was one thing for them to play at Council Power Struggle. That was expected and even approved of by the Holy Ones. However, the attempt on his life changed the game. It broke the unspoken rules among the Council. Now, Enzo was going to treat Vinnick as he did all enemies.

  This meant war.

  The death toll had risen to twenty-six, and Enzo intended for Vinnick to pay for every single one of them. An entire wing of the Botkin Hospital was cordoned off for its fourteen newest patients. His entire security team had swooped in and locked down the building, and now the entire city block was a veritable fortress.

  Vinnick’s desperation will not go unnoticed. However, restraint in this case will curry more favor than recklessness.

  “I won’t stand for it, Zoras.”

  You will not have to. I may need to speak with Flua directly. We cannot tolerate a delay to Quasiform at this important stage of the project.

  “Impossible. You already saw what he attempted when I tried to parlay in good faith. Besides, it would lower my standing if I put myself in that position again.”

  See to it. I do not care how.

  Enzo grimaced. “As you wish, my Guardian.”

  Amanda pushed her way through the gaggle of doctors fussing over his wounds and whispered into his ear. “Azumi and Jacob have arrived, Father. The Assembly is complete.”

  Enzo waved off the nagging nursemaids. He had suffered worse injuries during training. Still, Amanda, the only non-vessel he allowed within his Assembly, insisted. She had previously been Devin’s aide and continued to serve Enzo faithfully. No one knew the daily operations of his vast holdings as well as she did. He had been meaning to bless her, but her standing was far too low for any Holy One to accept. Still, loyalty, much like treachery, had to be rewarded.

  “Get out.” He pushed the doctors aside and hopped out of bed. His shoulder ached and he would need to walk gingerly for a few days, but otherwise, Enzo couldn’t waste his time with rest. Amanda helped him into his shirt. “Clear and assemble in ten minutes.”

  She nodded and left the room. He could hear her shout through the hallways to clear the floor. A few minutes later, Enzo and his most trusted lieutenants squeezed into one of the small hospital meeting rooms. Amanda, who was sitting next to him, activated a small machine on the table. The group waited as a low-pitched resonance in the room got higher and higher until it got imperceptible to the human ear. She looked over at him. “The room is soundproofed, Father.”

  “Praise to the Holy Ones,” he intoned.

  “Praise to the Holy Ones,” the rest of the room repeated.

  “Vinnick’s on his last legs,” Enzo began, looking each of his Hatchery siblings in the eye as he spoke. “He’s desperate. His last cowardly act has proven that he is unworthy of the Council. However, it is our duty not to destroy his operation, but to take it intact in order to continue serving the Holy Ones’s end goals. Our primary objective will be to unseat him from power in Russia. With the old snake so embedded, we will be under constant threat. Austin has fallen and Matthew is injured. Therefore, Palos will take point on my security detail going forward.”

  Palos, an older operative and the only non-Adonis Vessel in the group, stood up and bowed. “Your will, Father.”

  Enzo looked over at Azumi at one point, a close second to Enzo at the Hatchery. “Where are we on the Russian Parliament?”

  “Father,” she said, “all from the Federal Assembly can be leaned on, except those with close ties to Councilman Vinnick.”

  “And the State Duma?”

  She paused. “They might prove problematic. United Russia can be bought. However, all the other minority parties have been non-committal.”

  “Salvageable?”

  “Possibly, with the exception of the Liberal Democratic Party of Russia. They consider our influence an encroachment on Russian nationalism.”

  You must consolidate quickly. The delay of Quasiform has already reached unacceptable levels. Tighten your control and move on to our real goals. Do not get bogged down with the meanderings of Russian politics.

&
nbsp; “How strong is the LDPR currently?” he asked. “And how many are vessels?”

  “Eighty-four seats and none, Father. The LDPR uses Penetra scanners on all their ranking members. They are hardline xenophobes.”

  Enzo scowled and recalled his education from his Hatchery days. “Sacrilegious animals. Fifteen percent of the Duma. Very well. Organize a shade team and have it stand by just in case. If we cannot coerce them, we will find more direct alternatives. Coercion first.”

  Azumi hesitated. “We cannot guarantee the Holy Ones’s safety in the event of discovery.”

  “Then use the newborns.”

  This will be frowned upon.

  “Times are too critical for half-measures, my Guardian.”

  Shade teams were a relatively new branch of Genjix operatives. With the ability to procreate under their control now, Quasing extinction on this planet was no longer a threat. Initially, Enzo had planned to just overwhelm the entire planet with Holy Ones. What better form of invasion could there be than one from within? However, his plans were derailed when the first batch of Quasing were born. They discovered that the incubation process was woefully inadequate.

  On Quasar, new births had a near-infinite number of other Quasing to interconnect and share knowledge with. This allowed them to grow and mature rapidly by quickly merging and transferring thought. Because of the limited size of the ProGenesis vats, the newborns on Earth required a much longer period of time to incubate.

  This was a difficulty the Genjix scientists had not anticipated. They determined the only solution was to speed up Quasiform. At this moment, the Quasing could only procreate and allow the new Quasing to gestate slowly. His scientists estimated that it would take centuries before these incubated Quasing were mature enough to truly join the ranks of the Holy Ones.

  For Enzo, it had become an expensive and frustrating process. His initial plan of creating a vast vessel army was destroyed. Not only that, maintaining even the current vats was a drain on their resources. Currently, over fifteen percent of their expenditures went to maintaining the housing facilities for the two million Quasing birthed in the past half-decade. That was two million Holy Ones who would be ineffective for the next couple of hundred years.