Project- Heritage

by Rob Horner

  “Sounds like Species,” Travis said softly, referring to a science fiction movie centered more around the physical attributes of its starring actress than any real technologically plausible occurrences.

  Debbie laughed, “Not exactly, but close.”

  “I was only kidding,” Travis remarked, and Sherry leaned over to peck him on the cheek.

  “Oh, I’m sure,” Debbie said, “but this bears discussing. You see, in the movie, scientists from S.E.T.I., which stands for the Search for Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence—a real group, by the way--received instructions for combining alien genetic material with a fertilized egg from a human female. Our scientists didn’t want to go about it that way. It would take too long, for one thing, and they didn’t want to grow a mutant.”

  “Of course,” Billy said, taking back the narrative, “think about the times. It’s now the late nineties. Y2K is a looming threat, and political correctness is the new order of the day. The scientific community was inundated with these progressive thinkers who were more concerned with how others might judge their work, rather than conducting experiments with the goal of furthering scientific knowledge. They wondered if it was the right thing to do. They said no one would ever voluntarily be injected with something like this.

  “They hypothesized it might throw a subject backward along the evolutionary trail, rather than propelling him forward. These kinds of people, these questions, are why scientific advancement moves slowly. It’s why there are Institutional Review Boards. It was a natural outcome after the Nuremberg Trials, after the horrors of concentration camps, the tragedy of the Tuskegee Airmen, the insanity of Eugenics. The rights of the people had to be respected.”

  Billy held up a hand. “I want everyone to understand. This new breed of thinker was badly needed and way overdue. Too many horrible things have happened in the name of science. Unfortunately for NASA, the emergence of these socially-conscious researchers placed an insurmountable roadblock to further experiments with the moon matter.”

  “Obviously not totally insurmountable,” Victoria murmured.

  “Not totally, no,” Billy continued. “But it delayed things for almost another decade. NASA had to weed out certain people. They also had to distance themselves from the research to keep their hands clean. Since then, only those scientists with an eye towards change, rather than against it, have been approached with the project. Each one of them is vetted thoroughly and sworn to secrecy. Not even the President knows about this.

  “Eventually, as the staff on the project grew, a separate government agency was created to watch over it and provide funding. This agency, which is a sub-agency of a sub-agency of the C.I.A., took over the selection and evaluation process of the scientists it wanted to head the new project. They purchased the old medical building just off-base here in Illinois and began remodeling it. They operate out of a slush fund which uses money confiscated by the C.I.A. and the F.B.I., as well as other agencies, from drug dealers, terrorists, you name it. Last year alone the installation had an operating budget of just over four billion dollars, which isn’t a drop in the bucket when compared to the trillions that enter the government’s hands each year.”

  “They got the money and the location,” Lieutenant Barnes said. “What happened next?”

  “It took a while to get everything set up, as you can imagine. This is about the time that Debbie and I were brought in. Quite a few things needed to be figured out. The first hurdle came in decoding the biological matter; was it really DNA?”

  Debbie took over the story at this point, her soft voice filled with guilt at the part she’d played.

  “We were so proud of ourselves. We had no idea what the government intended. We were like kids, given a new toy to play with.

  “That’s where I met Billy. He was always in our lab, networking this, debugging that. We hit it off, started dating. Things were going great. A puzzle like this was a dream come true for a geneticist. We determined the alien material was a form of DNA with the same four basic proteins but arranged in strange and complex configurations. It was right after this breakthrough that Billy found something, an internal memo from one secure terminal to another.

  “Someone else was monitoring our research. There were other scientists prepared to take our results and move forward. There was a finite amount of alien material to work with. There wouldn’t be enough to waste on intermediate testing. They wanted to move into human testing. There were links to the personal and medical records of various service members, all high-scorers in aptitude tests, all with a statistically significant similarity in genetic make-up that made them ideal candidates.”

  “They had the facility,” Brian said. “They brought in the security, headed by someone I think you all know, Agent Buck Travers.”

  “That’s the bastard who shot me!” Travis said, rubbing his right shoulder.

  “He what?” Brian roared, jumping to his feet and almost knocking over the table in his rush to reach Travis.

  “Don’t worry, I’m all right,” Travis said, as Brian gingerly moved his shirt around, finding nothing but a fading bruise.

  Debbie’s eyes widened again, though she returned to the story.

  “Travers took over security for the building. He began making all kinds of demands for ways to monitor the subjects…ahem…people like you. That’s when Billy and I left. We disappeared. But only after Billy got a list of their first round of subjects.

  “What were they hoping would happen?” Victoria asked.

  “Everything I’m going to say now is conjecture, based on the little we’ve been able to learn since leaving,” Debbie said.

  “I can do better,” Robert Barnes said, hoisting the large folder onto the table. “Captain Manuel Ortega gave this to me and told me to come find you and Billy. It details everything you’ve just said, offers further conjecture, and contains reports on some of the outcomes.”

  Adopting a lecturing tone, Robert gave a summary of his in-flight reading. “According to the notes, as the human trials were beginning, the biologists, geneticists, and genealogists speculated that introduction of this DNA into a human should produce massive changes in the brain, enhancing the capacity to learn and memorize. They wondered if it might awaken areas theorized to control such things as telepathy or clairvoyance. It sounds like science fiction or fantasy, but if the common thought is that people only use five percent of their brains, what might happen if the other ninety-five percent were made active?

  “The consensus was that an intelligent person would make the best guinea pig, someone who could appreciate a noticeable change in their mental capabilities and would be open-minded enough to inform others on the changes.” His full mouth twisted sardonically. “There’s a line in here that reads, ‘A fool wouldn’t know what was happening if he suddenly learned to read minds; he’d just think he’d gone crazy.’”

  “Wow,” Brian said.

  “So,” the lieutenant continued, “they decided on ASVAB scores as a ready standard to determine eligibility. They chose the Navy for their subject pool because, of all the services, it attracts volunteers with the highest average scores. Granted, the Navy has just as many menial jobs as any other service, and there are always people at the opposite end of the bell curve, but it worked out for them. They had a ready supply of appropriate subjects near to hand. As I’m sure you remember, Travis, Sherry, you were subjected to blood and urine tests before you went to Boot Camp. With those two samples, they were able to determine whether you were genetically compatible with the alien stuff found on the moon.

  “The first dozen or so subjects underwent rapid, horrible, physical mutations, sometimes dying from the shock. Those that didn’t die went insane, unable to cope with what was happening to their bodies. There aren’t any reports of increased mental capacity from the first series of tests.”

  “Dear God,” Victoria whispered.

  “Now we know what happened to the first few,” Billy said, laying a hand on Debbie’s
arm.

  “They got more selective,” Lieutenant Barnes continued, his voice lower, softer, reading from notes that disturbed even as they informed. “They traced the genetic lines back farther, narrowing the range of acceptability. The decision was made to allow the subjects to complete their physical training in Boot Camp, and new aptitude tests were added to their regular regime. Sometimes these selected few were pulled from the ranks for additional blood draws.”

  “I remember that!” Travis said.

  “Of course, none of them ever knew what they were being tested for, and over ninety percent of those initially considered were eventually disqualified and allowed to proceed from Boot Camp into the Fleet, never knowing how close they’d come. Finally, in late June of 2012, they were ready for the next set.”

  You okay with this? Travis asked.

  I don’t think we have choice, Sherry replied. Looks like we can either bitch and moan about being guinea pigs and scream like raving paranoids about the stuff inside of us, or we can accept that it’s there and move on. What about you?

  I’ll make it, Travis said. I think the biggest shock was being confronted with my father, especially with the other faces trying to overlap his.

  I understand, Sherry said softly.

  They still haven’t mentioned my mother.

  Travis, have you considered—

  That she’s dead? he asked softly.

  I…yeah.

  Yes, I have. I’m pretty sure that’s what they don’t want to tell me.

  Why would they hold it back?

  That’s easy, Travis said. They’re afraid I’ll blame myself for it.

  Will you?

  A little, yeah, I guess. But more importantly, I think, they’re afraid of what I’ll do when I find out who’s responsible.

  I know what I’ll do, Sherry said softly.

  What’s that?

  Sherry turned a stiff smile on Travis. I think I’ll go with you and help you punish whoever’s responsible.

  Thanks for understanding.

  Hey! What else is a girlfriend good for?

  You’re more than that, you know.

  Sherry was shocked for a moment, unable to breathe. More than words came through their mental connection. There were emotional nuances attached to every phrase, like scent as a part of taste, totally inseparable. His words carried a sense of loyalty and love most-often reserved for the chapel. She heard Lieutenant Barnes droning on about how the new testing processes helped weed out candidates, but she didn’t comprehend any of it. Her mind saw the chapel, flowers, bells, and applauding guests. What do you mean? she asked finally.

  Let’s just say that I wish I had a ring and a preacher, Travis responded.

  It was crazy.

  They barely knew each other. They’d only been together for two days.

  But they were more intimately bonded than any couple in history, except perhaps the first couple, where one was made from another’s rib. I…are you serious?

  Of course.

  Sherry waited a moment longer. Then, when she couldn’t contain her excitement any longer, she said, Well, aren’t you going to ask me?

  That impatient, are you? Travis replied jokingly.

  Aren’t you?

  I wanted to wait until the time was right.

  There’ll never be a wrong time, Sherry assured him.

  When you put it that way… Will you marry me?

  Interrupting Robert’s recitation, Sherry leaped from her seat, wrapping her arms around Travis’s neck and covering his face with soft kisses. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

  Travis wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his lap.

  “Did we miss something?” Billy asked with a nervous laugh.

  “I guess we must have,” Debbie said, smiling at him. “Though from her reaction, I’d guess he just asked her to marry him.”

  “But…I didn’t hear anything!” Brian protested.

  “I…we’ll explain later,” Travis said, finally freeing his mouth from Sherry’s. He seemed disinclined to let her loose, however, and she didn’t want to leave his embrace.

  “This gets a little stranger every minute, doesn’t it?” Debbie said to no one in particular.

  “All will be explained, I’m sure,” Billy replied sagely, earning himself an elbow from Debbie.

  Brian looked lost, casting a helpless glance at Victoria, who stared at her daughter with something akin to shock. “You know,” the older woman said, “you’ve got a lot of explaining to do, young lady.”

  Sherry favored her mother with a smile. “We will, mom. Don’t worry.”

  “Nothing that makes you this happy can ever worry me,” Vicki replied.

  “Ahem,” Lieutenant Barnes coughed, “if I may proceed?”

  “Please,” Travis said.

  “Why thank you, young man,” Lieutenant Barnes said seriously, drawing a laugh from everyone.

  7

  “On the second attempt, several things changed,” Barnes said, flipping to the relevant pages in the folder. Billy rose from his chair, wanting more coffee, but the pot was empty. Grinning sheepishly, he tried to keep the noise to a minimum as he went about cleaning the carafe and brewing a fresh pot.

  “Not only were the selection criteria more refined, the method of experimentation was modified. Instead of introducing this foreign genetic material via an intravenous route, a more exacting process was instituted.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Debbie exploded. “They seriously ignored years of protocol derived after decades of research and just…injected the first round of subjects?”

  “That’s what it looks like,” Lieutenant Barnes said.

  “What should they have done?” Brian asked.

  “Well, consider that we’re talking about gene-splicing, but on a macro level,” Debbie answered. “So instead of isolating a single faulty gene and replacing it with a different or healthy gene, you’re essentially introducing two different but supposedly compatible genetic structures and watching them interact.”

  “So, like putting two strange dogs together in a pen,” Brian offered.

  “Not a bad analogy,” Debbie said. “The basic idea to keep in mind, in thinking of the dog metaphor, is that just because both animals are dogs, it doesn’t mean they’re going to get along. So, you watch, and you wait. If the samples coalesce and begin working together, you’ve got a stable amalgamation that could then, theoretically, be reintroduced to the subject.”

  “Looks like that’s what they did, at least by the time they got to the twentieth experiment or so,” Barnes continued. “No more drastic physical mutations, no more immune systems attacking the entire body to expel the foreign material, no subjects being driven insane from unendurable agony. But a new problem arose, one that your team, Debbie, had documented. It was recorded as an incidental finding and wasn’t given much credence at first.”

  Debbie’s face changed. Her high, smooth forehead scrunched down as her mouth came up, a look of concentration and deliberation. Lieutenant Barnes waited silently while she worked it out. “I’ll give you a hint,” he said at last. “It was one of the last points made about the material itself in the Xeno-DNA Transplantation report.”

  “Holy crap!” Debbie exclaimed. “You mean our conjecture about possible affinities between samples?”

  “Yes,” Barnes said. “Not only were there demonstrable affinities between the DNA samples, they followed a very human-like binary pattern which—”

  “We coded out twenty-three chromosomes,” Debbie interjected, “but we never really thought about what that meant other than considering it in light of its similarity to humans. But when you think about what that twenty-third chromosome actually means to us—

  “Holy crap!” she shouted. “That’s what we missed. They had males and females!”

  “Talk about not seeing the forest for the trees,” Billy said, laying a hand on her shoulder as he returned to the table.

  “Exactly,” Robert said
, fingering the next to last report. “A large percentage of the initial failures suddenly became explainable. The gender of the alien DNA needed to match that of the subject, or there was no avenue for compatibility. With that figured out, the newer subjects seemed stable, but they weren’t thriving. Not until Doctor Walls suggested we match them with suitable subjects altered with a DNA sample that showed affinity.”

  “So,” Brian said, rubbing his forehead like a man desperately trying to understand a problem or stave off a headache, “the aliens were…what…couples?”

  “Something like that,” the lieutenant said, “and they wanted to stay that way. They went back to the initial plan of grabbing people based solely on genetic compatibility, only now they were looking for members of the opposite sex in order to quickly create a stable Pair-Bond. The pool of subjects multiplied. Travis was the twenty-second subject, and only the second successful integration. Sherry was the hundred and fourth, but they were at the installation at the same time. She was brought in just two weeks after him.”

  “This is probably going to be the hardest part for you, Travis,” Debbie said. Brian lowered his head. Vicki leaned over to whisper into his ear.

  8

  “Keep in mind,” Debbie continued, “the first twenty subjects all suffered some form of debilitating mutation which either killed them outright or rendered them completely unstable. Deaths during Basic Training are rare but happen often enough that they occasion little comment from the public at large. Considering how varied the volunteers are, hailing from every state plus numerous territories, the combined United States can handle a lot of individual deaths without occasioning an outcry. In a population that eclipses three hundred million souls, twenty doesn’t even constitute a drop in the bucket.

  “I know that sounds callous,” Debbie went on, looking right at Travis, “but it’s how these people think. It’s how I thought, a long time ago, until the choice was put before me.”