Beyond Regeneration

by Jenny Schwartz

  Other people like Solomon? Charley forgot her antagonism. “Nicola said something similar.” Jack and Michael both looked interested. “About how some of the senior men who remembered Vietnam and other debacles wanted Australia to have a second string to its bow, not just blindly follow and obey America.”

  Michael smiled and raised his mug in salute to the two Australians. “Long live Aussie bloody-mindedness.”

  “That’s all very well,” Jack replied. “But we can’t rely on Australia’s small security force to rescue us.”

  Michael pulled a face. He’d never intended that they would: the people he had around Jack’s house were enough to start a small war. But he was impatient, too. “So, let’s get to business. John, you have patents on the bio-enhancement process. Are you willing to release them into the public domain?”

  “Yes.” Jack noted Charley’s twitch of surprise. “I don’t need the patents to run the process—nor do I want the money and danger of special knowledge.”

  Such a simple answer. Relief flooded her body. Jack was safe as soon as he shed his sole expert status, and evidently, he was willing to.

  Michael nodded once in agreement. “How soon can you publish the information?”

  Jack glanced at his computer. “I’ve been drafting the release. I’ll send an email to all the attendees of the Sydney conference and post it to a handful of medical discussion boards.” The claws on his left hand flashed and retracted. “Charley, how will the media present the news of sensory bio-enhancement?”

  Recalling the media’s rampant interest in simple bio-enhancement, she winced. The last few days had battered Jack, stripping him of faith in people he’d trusted. The media barrage wouldn’t be any kinder. He was taking a big risk sending his shiveringly new technology out into a potentially hysterical world. The media might run with the angle that Jack was literally creating monsters.

  On the other hand, pessimism never helped.

  She forced a smile. “The thing about the media, and public opinion more broadly, is that you never know which way it’ll jump. There could be editorials and headlines about superhuman monsters.” Jack winced. “Or the reality of sensory bio-enhancement could fade into society with barely a whimper. For instance, if a royal marriage scooped the headlines. Science can’t compete in the glamour stakes.”

  Astonishingly, a hint of humor sparked in Jack’s eyes. “What about marriage, Michael?”

  “No.”

  Distracted, Charley wondered who Michael was currently dating. He was rich enough to play in the diamonds and money-to-burn league.

  Michael answered the speculative gleam in her eye. “Jack’s out of date. That particular princess would, and I quote, kick me in the crown jewels if she ever saw me again. You’ll just have to take your chances with the media, Jack.” Abruptly he was all business. “When will you send the release?”

  “Tonight.”

  Charley knew she wasn’t qualified to quibble, but what if Jack’s methods couldn’t be replicated? “What if the real reason for bio-enhancement’s success is the QNA in your lab? What if they’re unique?”

  “We won’t know until other doctors trial the process.” Jack really wasn’t bothered by the possibility that his revolutionary success of bio-enhancement would be shared with others.

  “Good.” Michael shut down further discussion.

  Charley disagreed—her question hadn’t been answered, not really—but she didn’t argue.

  Michael was moving on, ticking off points. “Second, we need to present Dr. Solomon with the missing factor he believes Lillian—or John—withheld from him.”

  “Do you mean the QNA?” Charley regarded Michael with all her distrust re-surfacing. Long dormant protective instincts were definitely roused.

  “That depends on whether the QNA are willing to play,” he said. “You’ll have to ask them, tomorrow.”

  “The QNA wants to bring Solomon to justice for killing Lillian.” She shivered.

  “Really?” Michael stared thoughtfully into space.

  Jack took the jacket hanging from the back of his chair and passed it over to Charley. She shrugged it around her shoulders, inhaling his scent, and immediately felt warmer.

  “What does the QNA see as justice for a murderer?” he asked.

  “Who knows. It shooed me out of the lab so it could think.”

  “Amazing,” he began.

  Michael interrupted. “Charley, about the QNA…if we invite Dr. Solomon to New Hope to learn about the missing factor in the sensory bio-enhancement trial notes, he won’t come alone.”

  Jack frowned, but it was Charley who challenged Michael’s confidence. “He has in the past.”

  Michael dismissed the argument. “Kidnapping me wasn’t authorized by Solomon. Someone high in the CIA must have entered the game. Control of sensory bio-enhancement is too important to leave it to Solomon. They’ll come with him.”

  “Do you know who?” Jack asked.

  “I’ve got people finding out.” Judging by the tight set of his jaw, Michael would make sure someone paid for the affront of arresting him.

  Charley doubted his retaliation would be any more legal than his detainment. Fortunately, that wasn’t her concern. “Would a senior CIA figure really show up at New Hope with Solomon?”

  “Yes.” Michael crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder against the wall. “Arresting me was a gamble, and they lost it. They thought they’d get documents from Jabberwocky, but Nic, Aaron and Ted destroyed their notes before they vanished. So, arresting me only revealed how much the CIA wants control of sensory bio-enhancement. They have little to lose now in coming forward to negotiate directly.”

  Charley took heart at the connotations of “negotiate”.

  Michael shook his head. “CIA notions of negotiation are primitive: bribes and intimidation.” He fixed her with a stern gaze. “You can’t believe their promises.”

  She met his look steadily. The CIA wasn’t the only group whose promises she’d take with a truckload of salt.

  Michael stretched and yawned, either unaware of her wariness, or disregarding it. “We do have an ace up our sleeves. If we arrange to meet at New Hope, the QNA can read Solomon and the CIA director’s intentions.”

  “Read their minds,” she corrected bluntly. “It’s not ethical.”

  Michael addressed his toes. “Wars are lost by people who believe it’s not gentlemanly to read other people’s letters.”

  Tap, tap, tap. Jack’s claws scratched a rhythm against the arm of his chair.

  Charley waited for him to speak, and when he stayed silent, marshalled logic to support her own protest. “Forget ethics, then. Intentions change, Michael. The QNA’s reading is only good for that point in time. Besides, Solomon and his CIA boss might not know the real intentions of the CIA. It’s workings are labyrinthine.”

  “It’ll be a senior director,” he countered. “He’ll know. Charley, when I know what they’re planning I can protect Jack and the trio.”

  “And the QNA?”

  “Of course.”

  Charley didn’t trust him. This was the thin end of the wedge; a way of subverting the QNA’s emerging sentience, of enlisting it as an ally, and teaching it that mindreading was not a violation of privacy. “Why can’t you simply assume the worst case scenario and go on from there?”

  “Because there are too many worst cases. You’ve asked about the QNA—think about it. What will the CIA do when they find out about them? The QNA has a right to know its predator.”

  “Or one of them,” she muttered.

  Jack looked from Michael to Charley, then stood. “I think the decision is the QNA’s. Charley, you said the QNA wants to bring Solomon to justice for Lillian’s death. The QNA also deserves the right to determine if it wants to defend itself by sharing Solomon’s intentions with us.”

  “If you and Michael don’t tell Solomon about the QNA, Solomon and the CIA won’t be a threat to it,” she said.

  “Secrets
always come out.” Jack smiled wryly. “So I’ve learned. The QNA’s sentience will become known, either from my lab or another.”

  Michael crossed his arms. “The CIA will find out.” The words were as definite, as heavy, as soil thudding onto a coffin.

  Charley stood, ignoring Jack’s coat when it fell from her shoulders to the chair. “You talk about the QNA, but what about my rights and responsibilities to it? With Alan gone, I’m the only conduit to the QNA. What if I don’t want to receive the contents of Solomon’s mind? What if I take an ethical stand and refuse to pass it on?”

  “Then any deaths that result from our lack of information are your responsibility,” Michael said, uncompromisingly.

  “Michael,” Jack protested.

  “I will not help you turn the QNA into a weapon.” She glared at him. She was worried about Jack, about Nicola, Aaron and Ted, worried for herself, but she would not let Michael harass her into a panicked irreversible action.

  “It’s the QNA’s decision.” He paused and exchanged his intensity for disarming humor. “Besides, you can filter out any information you think I shouldn’t have about the CIA men.” His dark gaze challenged her.

  Meeting it, she realized that he didn’t trust her. But he would use her.

  Paradoxically, his lack of trust decided her. The high set of her shoulders fell. “All right. I’ll put your proposal to the QNA. It can decide.”

  “Thank you,” he said, and moved on to item three of his plan as smoothly as if her agreement had never been in doubt. “We must be proactive as well as defensive, and that means a plan for the future, something that all our actions will aim for. What we want is safety for John, his technology of sensory bio-enhancement, and the QNA. The best way to guarantee the freedom of all three is to establish Jabberwocky as the official center for sensory bio-enhancement. It’s close to New Hope’s QNA lab, and John can continue to run both his existing regeneration practice and the development of bio-e. I’ll provide initial funding for the center, and John and I will give up exclusive rights to the center’s work. It will be open to other scientists and interested agencies, by invitation. Whatever the QNA show as Solomon and the CIA’s intentions, we can argue and use against them, as long as we’re agreed that an internationally recognized center at Jabberwocky is our aim.”

  Charley could see the advantages of the proposal from Michael’s point of view. Using Jabberwocky kept him not only in the loop, but at the center of it. Still, the idea of a recognized center for sensory bio-enhancement was good. The point that could be argued was the CIA’s willingness to back Jack independently of Michael. Jack didn’t need Michael.

  Jack put an end to that notion before she could suggest it. “I’d rather a center backed by Michael than by the CIA. I know with Michael I can keep my independence.”

  Charley snorted, and for a moment she was sure the other two were thinking, like she was, of Michael’s betraying secret trial of sensory bio-enhancement.

  “John trusts me.” Michael’s voice grated.

  Charley shrugged a shoulder in a gesture that said, as clear as day, Well, I don’t.

  The call, though, was Jack’s, and he made it. “We go with Michael’s plan.”

  Charley frowned. “I have a request. Even if the QNA agree to share their mind reading, I don’t want the CIA told of the QNA’s sentience until the CIA has agreed to the existence of the new center at Jabberwocky. I’m not being illogical, Michael. QNA sentience is one too many weird occurrences around New Hope, and I don’t want the CIA questioning the credibility of Jack’s sensory bio-enhancement because they doubt my witness to QNA communication. Also, I’m afraid that fear of the alien might lead the CIA to destroy or capture the QNA.”

  “Fine. We’ll keep the notion of QNA sentience quiet for a bit.” Michael yawned extravagantly and opened the office door. “I’ll get some sleep. Goodnight.”

  Charley stared at Jack, struck by a sense of anticlimax.

  He chuckled.

  Michael had won his point and strategically retreated.

  It was masterly tactics, but Charley hated having them used on her. “Jack, are you happy with Michael’s plan? You didn’t say much.”

  “I’d have spoken up if I objected. Michael’s the strategist.”

  “Humph.”

  Jack laughed again, and moved around the desk to pick up his jacket from where it had fallen. He draped it over the back of a chair before casually pulling her into his arms. “Are you scared?”

  It felt natural to lean against him. “Are you?”

  “A bit, but we’ll be right. Michael’s quietly on the warpath, and I’d never bet against him. The CIA definitely miscalculated when they had him detained. He won’t forgive, or forget, the insult.” He threaded a hand through her hair, tilting her face up to his. “I have to finish step one of Michael’s plan and send out the information on sensory bio-enhancement.”

  “Well?” she prompted when he did nothing but stand and study her face, and thereby, accelerate her heartbeat.

  “Very well.” He stole a quick, emphatic kiss. “I love you, Charley, and I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep us safe.”

  She couldn’t let him go so fast. She stood on tiptoe and initiated another kiss, one that deepened and ripened with passion, one that showed just how much they’d both been holding back: her out of fear and him out of respect and care for her uncertainty. When the kiss ended, she rested against him, feeling the heat of their bodies, hearing their quickened breathing, and knowing how good they’d be together.

  “We’ll make this right,” Jack said. “And then we’ll work out our life together. I can’t let you go. Not after finding you again.”

  He’d loved her for so long. It made her both happy and humbled. She was precious to him, which was terrifying.

  He was vital to her, too. “Just stay safe, yourself.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Michael has a plan,” Charley told the QNA, wondering as she did if it was necessary. Wouldn’t the QNA have already lifted the memory from her mind?

  But the QNA had other concerns. “Have you found my name?”

  She sat down. The subject had vanished from her mind. To be reminded of it, when she was geared up for a very different discussion, threw her off balance. However, she’d looked up the patron saint of beekeepers before dinner last night. It had been a simple task, welcome because of its achievability.

  “It’s St. Ambrose. A fourth century bishop. Bees and honeycomb were his symbol in Christian iconography. The story went that as a child, a swarm of bees had flown around his cradle while he slept and that some had crept in and out of his open mouth, an action interpreted as a sign of future eloquence and greatness.”

  “Ambrose.” The QNA considered the name. “Is it a good name?”

  “It’s fairly unique, these days.”

  “Is it?” The QNA approved of uniqueness. “Then I am Ambrose.”

  “Good morning, Ambrose,” Charley said formally, and smiled.

  In response, she received a surge of pleasure from the QNA, from Ambrose. “It is good to have a name.” If Ambrose had been a puppy, it would have wriggled with delight.

  The QNA’s emotional response to gaining a personal identifier drove home to her the fact that she was dealing with something more complex than an emerging intelligence. She was dealing with an emerging personality. One, moreover, who was mastering inter-personal dialogue and not simply rummaging through her mind for the information it wanted. Ambrose, in fact, was learning the nuances of socialized behavior, and the speed with which it learned was scary.

  “You disapprove of my communication?” Ambrose asked.

  “No, well…no. It’s just…behind it all, it’s not really communication.” She waved her hand, trying to conjure words to describe the sense of wrongness that accompanied communication with the QNA. “It’s unbalanced. I have no filter. I can’t make sure that you receive only the message or meaning I want to convey. Even if you
attempt to follow the protocols of human communication, I’m aware that you can rummage through my mind reading what you want, and in return, I receive only the message you want to send me.”

  “You feel at a disadvantage,” Ambrose said.

  She grimaced. Yes, she did, but “I mean more than that. I feel mentally and emotionally naked in communicating with you.”

  “Ah.” Ambrose had forced her to clarify and recognize her feelings, and was now willing to proceed. “You feel vulnerable to an uneven balance of power in our communications.”

  “Ye-es.”

  “From my point of view. Being able to read your underlying, as well as stated intentions, is an ability I can’t afford to relinquish. You forget, my continued existence depends on humans’ willingness to culture QNA. I’d be fatally stupid to relinquish my insight into human thought.”

  She sighed. Once identified, the QNA’s perspective was compelling. Michael would appreciate it. Charley raised a protest, though. “You won’t find many humans comfortable in dealing with you.”

  “I will find enough,” Ambrose said.

  She sighed again. “Yeah. Michael will be pleased.”

  “Why?”

  “Your attitude fits with his plan.”

  This time Ambrose was willing to learn the details of Michael’s plan. Charley could only wish she was as confident in her mind as to her role in Michael’s grand solution.

  An international center for sensory bio-enhancement that worked with the QNA as a sentient partner needed a communication link between the QNA and humans—and with Alan apparently determined on escape, for the moment that left Charley to carry the role. Michael evinced no doubts that she’d fill it, but she’d seen in Jack’s eyes the question: would she stay?

  He wanted a life with her, and she…she hoped she had the strength to love, again. She was sure that if she said their relationship had to stay professional only, he would respect it—but such a decision would hurt him. It would place them both in an untenable position.

  If she was to be part of the new world of sensory bio-enhancement, then she had to accept renewal in all aspects of her life. Did she have the courage?