Wine of the Gods 1: Outcasts and Gods

by Pam Uphoff

  Wolf's stomach clenched. "If the genes were identical to the human genes, what did the source matter?"

  "It's a matter of legality. They could never have tested those artificial genes on an actual human. A hybrid animal, no problem. So they created the hybrid animals."

  Wolf fought down nausea. "Are there actually enough of them to matter? I mean, twelve billion humans is a hell of large gene pool." He concentrated on reading off another series of measurements to Lopez and moved to the next body.

  This is a man, lying here, dead. Not an animal.

  He wondered a bit about the raped women. But no doubt any that did get pregnant would abort. And he wondered why he hadn't been able to spot the soldiers mentally. A mental barrier? A shield that keeps thoughts in, instead of keeping other people's thoughts out? That one I was working on, before I left. Guess I'd better work on it some more.

  Eventually they graphed all their data. The Russians were within human parameters, in every way, but clumped toward various extremes. Legs a bit long compared to torso, head a bit large, jaws a bit long. But still, they fit within the human norm.

  "Physically barely normal. Behavior, not human at all."

  "Doc, you ought to read more history." Thorne dumped two weeks memory from his comp, and handed it over to the security people to be checked. "That lot would have fit right in with the Vikings. Or the Mongols."

  Nelson snorted. " Or any of hundreds of ancient peoples. All right, I'll cede you that."

  Wolf shrugged. "Pakistan bombed Delhi, killed ten times as many people as this lot did." He finished his electronic purge and handed his comp over. All he cared to remember, he had inside his head. "They just did it from a nice clean distance." They got their comps back, closed their rucks. "Been interesting, Doc, but I really hope I don’t have to help you measure bodies again."

  "They weren't really people." The doctor turned away.

  As they walked out into the chilly morning, Wolfgang shivered.

  Thorne muttered, "I wonder what the public report will be. If there is one."

  Three weeks later they caught rumors that there had been a pack of Russian monsters—genetically engineered soldiers—who had escape their masters’ control and killed nearly a thousand civilians. The Russians denied the existence of such creatures. The American media trumpeted it, and spun attacks on engineered children into justified reactions.

  Pity they didn't just run. We only chased them because of the train, the slaughter, the hostages. It would have saved their lives, and saved us a load of grief.

  ***

  Jason pulled his eyes away from the translucent dancing girl that was spinning in the air, in front of AK's frown.

  "The company organization is very interesting." He pulled out the charts he'd made, and spread them out on the grass. This spot was in between the security camera pickups. "If you trace things back, they all wind up in the hands of one Chou or another. There's an old guy, ninety-five or so, born in China, immigrated forty years ago. Jaejong Chou."

  AK looked up at that. The dancing girl disappeared. "The man who invented the first power gene?"

  Rebeccah's mouth rounded in a silent "Oh!"

  Jason grinned. "Right. Steal my thunder. See if I care. Thing is, rumor is he worked at the Chinese's government's intelligence service. So did he develop it himself, or steal it? Ditto the dimensional rings, which were 'his idea.' And similar to some Russian experiments that have lately come to light."

  AK nodded. "There's a grandson, Huang Fu Chou who's one of the world's leading geneticist. I wouldn't bet on Jaejong not being at least an expert on the subject."

  Rebeccah looked back at Jason. "You mentioned the company organization?"

  "Yeah. Jaejong had three sons and half a dozen daughters. The daughters all married American scientists and businessmen. A man rumored to be his half brother, different family name, Gao, based in Taipei, was investigated several times, suspected of laundering drug money. That's where the family fortune started. They were into everything. Once Jaejong escaped, first to Taipei, and then moving to San Francisco, the widespread family started concentrating their interest in NewGene. Between all the various family members, they became majority stockholders."

  Charlie frowned. "So is that the reason we were developed, and some of you kidnapped? Chou knew we could do these sorts of things?"

  "Or he just put two and two together." Rebeccah's eyes narrowed. "Do you have any dates? I'll bet he has been in contact with all the genetics companies, nudging them the direction he wanted them to go, long before he started this takeover."

  Charlie nodded. "Maybe on the physics side as well. Or maybe not. I haven't heard of any other labs doing stuff like this. He may have kept that information close until he had his living control systems grown and trained."

  Jason grinned. "They had blueprints, exact measurements. Annotated in Russian. One of my little friends translated it all, and redrew the blueprints, so it didn't look Russian. This so called prototype is just flat out stolen."

  "I wonder what the Russians are doing? Have been doing for the last forty years?"

  "If they didn't have telies, or didn't put the two very different experiments together, they may have given it up as unworkable. A theory they think they've falsified. Three experiments, really, although I suppose the power could be generated in other ways."

  Charlie smiled. "I think this information ought to leak. Give the Chou clan some grief."

  Pax had been silent, but now he nodded. "I know how to do it in a way that won't be traced to us."

  AK tapped his company chart. "Are you saying that the whole NewGene company, genetics and dimensional physics, all this research is for some criminal gang? Why? I mean, if their project started so long ago, with the power genes, they've spent a ton of money on research, the sort of expenditures that are usually only spent by governments. Over forty years or so."

  "Yeah." Jason nodded. "Why are they doing it?"

  ***

  Harry whistled absently as he studied the pictures. Autopsies of twenty-four men.

  "Russian." Mike said. "The DNA results confirm that they are genetically engineered, with a single power gene. Do you realize the panic everyone is in, knowing that it isn't just you four hundred double power gene people, but every single power gene person that has this potential."

  Harry waved at the report. "Potential to do what? They did very little that an ordinary group of soldiers couldn't do."

  "Except gun down a thousand people, then throw a woman over their shoulder and run for miles?"

  "Yeah, yeah. It usually takes more soldiers to do it . . . but I can see where the lack of empathy shown has spooked everyone."

  "Lack of empathy? That's putting it mildly."

  "That's where nurture was supposed to come in. What circumstances were these soldiers raised in?"

  "We're working on that."

  Harry looked at the pictures of the cold gray bodies. Studied the measurements. "They got the same height excess we're noting in the boys. Long legs, well muscled. Endurance a migrating antelope would admire. At least the faces are different, I don't think any of ours are directly derived from these. I'd like to show this to Dr. Heath."

  "No. It can't leave this office. The situation is getting ugly, Harry. That escape your kids engineered alarmed everyone. Now adding this CIA report that the chairman of NewGene may have had access, through family in Chinese Intel, to the Russian genetic project and also information from other Russian experiments, makes us antsy. I know we're missing something. The reason for this concentration on parallel worlds, perhaps. What's driving it? Forty years and it's just now showing promise?"

  "The Chinese experiments in engineering humans must have been minor. There aren't any rumors about Chinese super soldiers, the way there are about the Russians." Harry bit his lip. "Perhaps they only worked on the power genes, making 'improvements' on something that someone took from the Russians, that Chou, years later, claimed to have developed h
imself."

  Mike shrugged. "He may well have developed them himself, as well as having access to the Russian data. All the while maneuvering his family out of China and into money. Into a small American company doing genetic research, which has grown into NewGene. He was just about the last one out. Married an American woman living in Manilla, and moved to San Francisco two years later, just as all the test kids hit their teenage years. Once he had direct control of the company, they acquired all the test kids and started the dimensional project. What ever his goals, the old bugger had it all mapped out, decades ago."

  Harry grimaced. "Yes, but that just means he's going to be determined to keep the telies, and the government is going to have trouble dislodging him. We're all still screwed."

  "No kidding. Harry, everyone else has rumors. The congress knows the Delhi massacre was perpetrated by genengineered soldiers. All the engineered are going to face problems, now. So keep your head down, until the government takes over the dimensional experiments. Then maybe we can sort out your 'telies' and let loose the ones with decent socialization."

  Harry winced. Less than half the kids were fostered out to normal families. "Thanks Mike. Christ, every time I turn around, it's gotten worse. It'd be nice to see the tide turn.

  "But as for what Chou is after? I don't know—but his reaction to these latest experiments is interesting. He leaped immediately to the conclusion that we were looking at a world parallel to our own. Now, is he just prone to wild guesses—or is he operating from a knowledge of what the Russian or Chinese experiments accomplished?"

  Chapter Nine

  NewGene Experimental Facilities

  Wisconsin, North American Union

  24 December 2113

  Rebeccah looked out at the deep snow and fought a loosing war against homesickness. Dad's out in the garage, cursing the sno-blower because it won't start. Mom's playing secular Christmas music and baking. Probably just put the turkey in. With this snow, they may have gotten Grandmother Abrams yesterday, so she's acting put out and saying she's a Good Jew and doesn't celebrate holidays appropriated from Pagans by Heretical Splinter Groups. When Dad comes in he'll tell her this is nothing, being forced to leap the Beltane Fires is spousal abuse, only forgiven if accompanied by hot wassail and a kiss. Someone will say it's a bit early for alcohol, and Dad will protest that it's all evaporated . . .

  She got up hastily, before she started crying. She stomped up to the counter and glared over it, at the servers. "Get the cook."

  One of them was surprised enough to actually do it. The big man came out and frowned down at her.

  "Tomorrow is Christmas, for God's sake. Spaghetti? You've got spaghetti on the menu for Christmas dinner? Are you insane? Go find a damned recipe for stuffing, and use some of that tasteless pretend turkey you serve every couple of weeks. Find some cranberries to go with it. Make some pies. Pumpkin, apple and pecan. Make too much damned food. It's Christmas, for heaven's sake!" She stalked off to applause and whistles, and nearly blushed to death getting back to her seat.

  AK was laughing helplessly. "You should have seen the look on Jack's face. Priceless! For a girl who apparently looses her temper once every three years, you did a great job of it."

  There wasn't much they could do, in the way of presents, but Rebeccah set to with a will and printed out a poem, short story, comic or inspirational picture for every single one of the telies. AK caught her mood and folded colored printer paper into origami shapes, and they delivered them all to everyone's usual spot in the cafeteria just before the morning wakeup sounded. It was worth all the yawns, and the dirty looks from half of the staff. The turkey dinner was no worse than usual, the pies, excellent.

  The cook received AK's fanciest folded turkey.

  After dinner, Charlie gave her a necklace of crunched aluminum links and kissed her.

  ***

  "Hey, you see this?"

  Wolf cocked his head at the article. "The Hunt for Parallel Worlds? I didn't know you read science fiction."

  "No." Hennessy shook the mag. "This is real. Trans World Travel is a subsidiary of NewGene. They've actually built prototypes and gotten enough encouragement to build a full sized one. They're up in Wisconsin, says they're using the facilities they used to use for genetic engineering, when the name NewGene meant something."

  Wolfgang’s breath caught. Is that what it was all about? Or is it unconnected? He made himself relax, sound indifferent. "Well, I suppose they had to do something with the place when human genengineering was outlawed. That's pretty woo-woo, though."

  "Ah c'mon." Lopez joined in. "We’ve all seen woo-woo. And are under orders to not talk about it. But there’s a lot of other odd rumors out there. Don't you believe it was the Russian's genetically engineered soldiers that crushed the Khazikstan uprising?"

  "The same ones rumored to have been in India? Nope. Just ordinary Russian soldiers. Don't believe that they hid the evidence by eating it, either." Wolfgang shuddered. "Although even a Khak has to taste better than whatever that was we ate last night. That was cruel and unusual punishment after a real Christmas feast last week."

  While the conversation predictably devolved into the usual commentary about Army chow, he grabbed the magazine and started reading. Very interesting. No doubt all of his friends had been put to work controlling those prototypes. He wondered if any of them had managed to stay free. "Humph. I'll believe it when I see it." He tossed the mag back. "Although it sounds like they're spending a whole lot of money on the idea. If I had a stockbroker, I'd call him and tell him to sell, quick, before it goes the way of their gods."

  "'tention!"

  They all jumped up.

  "At ease." Colonel Helms was followed only by the Sergeant.

  Great, another unofficial briefing.

  "Don't look so sour, Thorne, you'll love this one, nice and warm, for a change. Our shipping is having trouble with pirates in the South China Sea, the Straights and just about everyplace else in the vicinity. So you lot are going to get a nice sea voyage."

  In a container. Two point four meters wide, twelve long and two point six high.

  "Cozy" had been Sergeant Hay's only comment when they boarded in Osaka.

  The team had considered it mainly an opportunity to catch up on sleep. They were supposed to be at the top and outside of the stack of containers, so could egress through the top or side hatch. There were similar hatches on both long sides and they had plenty of acid, should they find that they had to go through a container or five.

  Sitting and meditating under everyone's eyes was SOP by now. And dealing with the ribbing.

  "But I take up less space like this." Wolfgang pointed out. "Think about how awkward it would be if I wanted to do my katas? I'd beat up half the team without noticing." They were, one and all, as good or better than he was, and laughed.

  He relaxed his mind and blocked out the close glows of their disciplined minds, to pick up the crew's locations, the heat of the engines. Further out. A small boat with two people fishing. Ahead, another freighter. Behind, a small freighter with a very trained and bright crew, too many for that size ship. Ours or theirs? Only one way to find out.

  They stopped in Taipei where, contrary to the order of lading, their box was shifted and sandwiched between two others. During the run through the South China sea they drilled holes into the container to port, which was on the outside of the stack. They could have egressed through the front or back of the container, as the ends were left clear for handling. But they were also the most reinforced parts of the box, and more visible. The port container held earthmoving equipment. By staying high, they could climb through the equipment and cut a hole in the far side.

  But once they had egress, the question was, how to persuade the Sergeant to attack a container half the ship away? Twelve glows, dim and confused had been loaded with the rest at Taipei.

  "Let's do some familiarization exercises." Hays led the way through the maze they'd created. A hazy thin fog covered the se
a and drifted past them. Wolfgang paused long enough to locate the crew, and the other concentration of people. They hopscotched around on the containers and worked their way aft, toward the raised wheelhouse and crew accommodations in the stern above the engines. Wolfgang stopped and drifted to starboard. The sergeant joined him, giving him a questioning look.

  "Thought I heard something. One of the potential ways they were attacking was with people hidden in containers, right?"

  "Yep. Just like us. Look for any containers that might have a top hatch." Out of four thousand containers

  "It sounded close. One of these four, unless it was a crewman down between containers." Wolfgang stepped to the next container and pointed to the square on top of the next.

  Lopez waved for attention. The team ghosted over and nodded as he outlined the square egress. A study of the container pinpointed air intake and exhaust.

  They retreated to confer.

  "We could set off a tear gas grenade by the air intake, but that's a bit obvious, and if it's someone smuggling women and children we could even kill some of them."

  Thorne flashed teeth. "What if we welded it shut? Then they couldn't join the party when their friends show up."

  "Unless they don't have any help coming." Wolfgang hesitated. "There are only twenty-four crewmen. Could they intimidate enough sailors to go wherever they take the ships?"