The Rebirths of Tao

by Wesley Chu

  Cameron hurried off before he had to make another promise he couldn’t keep. The last thing he needed was to rope his parents into another meeting. As he unlocked his bike, he noticed several of the varsity guys pointing at him. As always, once those guys knew they had his attention, the catcalls came and the taunting got worse. Cameron turned his back to them.

  “I could kick the crap out of all of them.”

  It would not even be close.

  “All at the same time I bet. I don’t care if they’re football players.”

  You could do it without even breaking a sweat. In fact, if you sweat, I would be disappointed because it would mean it took you too long.

  “Maybe even with one hand behind my back. Maybe with no hands.”

  Yes. You will head-butt them to death.

  Cameron was treated to a montage of every one of Tao’s previous hosts who had ever head-butted something, from several instances when he was a Triceratops, to the hundreds of times in Cro-Magnon hosts, to during the Roman Empire’s Golden Age when one of his hosts was a bare-knuckle brawler, all the way to the one time Roen head-butted a wall by accident and broke his nose.

  Cameron laughed. “Man, are you sure Roen is actually my dad?”

  To be fair, he was undercover in Mongolia and they brush their teeth early in the morning with vodka. He was playing a drinking game with a local mobster he was trying to pull intel from and he lost.

  Cameron thought about his father as he rode his bike back to the farmhouse. He didn’t know much about Roen’s time as a host; his dad didn’t like to talk about it. Cameron knew losing Tao was painful for him and digging up those old memories hurt, so he didn’t ask. Still, he wondered. Knowing the life expectancy for the line of work they did, Cameron would rather learn Roen’s story now, before it was too late.

  As he fell into his pedaling cadence, his warm-up for his three upcoming workouts, his mind wandered to the girl. He knew she was Genjix, but at their age, did it matter? Of course it did. Cameron had been spoon-fed stories of the Genjix ever since he was a kid. He’d bet she had been told the same about the Prophus.

  I know you wish to meet her. I approve of that, but be careful. She is pretty and a Genjix host, a deadly combination for any teenager. I get inklings of her being an Adonis Vessel as well, or at least one in training.

  To be honest, Cameron didn’t notice her looks. He had fixated more on the fact that she was like him. That meant she might understand things he couldn’t talk to anyone else about. Also, from the few glimpses he did get at Redwood National Park, she looked a mess, sort of like how his dog Eva used to look after she had romped through the stream near their home. He couldn’t blame the girl for being a little messy. She had been on the lam and had just pulled through a firefight.

  Half an hour later, he saw the farmhouse in the distance. While the other kids were at football practice, Hsing Yi Quan was on his agenda today, then t’ai chi, then SWAT maneuvers, and then strength training. After dinner, weapons. Then his daily early morning free-running sessions with Mom, and then Ba Gua Zhang. Then back to school.

  Cameron sighed. It sounded a lot more glamorous than it actually was. Somehow, playing football seemed so much more appealing. Oh well, Tao had always told him that a host carried heavy burdens. Cameron just wished he could shrug the responsibilities off once in a while and act his age. Roen appeared as he wheeled his bike into the garage.

  “There you are, son,” Roen grinned. “We’re going to need to push your Chinese buzz-saw fighting” (Roen’s nickname for Hsing Yi) “back an hour. I need you to help me out with our guests. We’re still screwing some thumbs down and getting some answers. It’ll be fun.”

  Cameron flashed his dad a weak smile. “Sure. I’ll be right there.”

  5

  Kremlin’s Heir

  The Conflict Doctrine is the foundation of all Genjix philosophies on Earth. Conflict breeds innovation. Innovation is what will take the Quasing home. That was our original intent. Though our primary objective has now changed, the principles of that foundation remain true and still apply.

  I have been at the heart of the doctrine’s inception and shall remain so until it comes to fruition.

  Zoras

  * * *

  Today was a good day. A historical day, even.

  Enzo, flanked on both sides by his entourage, took his time walking through the tall arches and rust-colored gates of the antique fortress, long the symbol of empires, and proceeded down the wide pathway, past the famed gigantic green Tsar Cannon, on his way to the church.

  He could have met Vinnick at the Federation Council building in front of the entire Russian government, but instead, he had decided to show some manners. After all, no need to embarrass the old man in front of the humans. They were still Genjix, after all. His enemies and critics could say many things about him, but never that he was uncivilized. Besides, he enjoyed basking in history, and there were few grander, more historically significant places than the Church of the Disposition of the Robe nestled inside the Kremlin.

  This country had seen its share of foreign invasions over the centuries. Their people tended to ensconce themselves with their own. Enzo would have to break them of this relationship with Vinnick, especially the high-ranking officials with whom Vinnick had long-established connections. The Russian politico class was in a frail state, and their allegiance could go either way. They recognized his power and influence as the accepted leader of not only the Chinese government, but the Genjix; yet they also considered him an outsider. Vinnick, while Genjix, was also Russian, and one of them.

  Flua has spent hundreds of years building his power base here, and Vinnick has his hands in nearly every aspect of the current government. It is your responsibility to break their bond and take his place.

  The next few hours would be delicate, but really only a formality. Unless Vinnick offered total capitulation, there was nothing to negotiate. The government had so far shown a surprising loyalty to the hundred-and-four year-old Genjix Councilman, but his influence and power, as his recent health, had finally waned.

  It was Enzo who had chosen this location inside the historical church. It was he who had determined the date and time. These were his agents who secured the area around it. In other words, this was Enzo’s party, his coronation, and Vinnick was here to deliver the crown. In many ways, he compared today’s event to the Second Armistice at Compiègne.

  It had taken over a decade before Enzo could establish this foothold within Vinnick’s domain, but with the Russian president’s invitation to hold talks, he could finally achieve dominance over his hated rival. The Russians had long proven to have more loyalty to ethnicity and money than they had to power. In both those matters, Enzo was at a distinct disadvantage and did not have the same resources as the Russian billionaire.

  “Perhaps we could replace the president with someone more friendly to us.”

  Replacing the president by force will be messy, most likely escalating the situation toward a civil war and only reinforcing already negative world perceptions.

  The Council Power Struggle had taken longer than anticipated. Much longer in fact, to the point that it had not only weakened the Genjix, but had hindered the Holy Ones’s divine plans for Quasiform. Enzo placed that responsibility squarely on Vinnick. After all, it was clear by the fourth year of their struggle that the old man would lose. However, the stubborn fool dragged on their fight, only conceding ground when he had to.

  Even now, with Enzo on the verge of victory, Vinnick had fought him tooth and nail, causing delays to the Genjix’s most important programs. That delay was a sin Enzo could not forgive. What was he trying to prove? If he had only done the right thing, Enzo might have been merciful and let him live out the rest of his life peacefully.

  A lesson had to be taught, and not just to Vinnick, but to anyone else who dared oppose Enzo. If he allowed his opposition pardons for their crimes, then he was simply inviting others to challenge his rule. No
, even at his age, Vinnick must be shown swift and harsh punishment. Those who did not bend to Enzo’s will now, would only challenge it in the future.

  Enzo nodded at several of his agents who had cordoned off the area. As far as most Genjix were concerned, he was the most important human alive. That was another thing he had learned from Vinnick. While all the Holy Ones were divine, not all their vessels were. Some were closer to divinity than others. In this case, Enzo’s brothers from the Hatchery were the true vessels that the Holy Ones deserved. Those found outside were nothing more than shells, empty, unworthy containers that were meant to be used and discarded. In the end, most from outside the Hatchery were unworthy.

  Enzo stopped just inside the church entrance and studied the long tunnel of arches that spanned the length of the building. Zoras was right to have cautioned that there were many places here for assassins to hide. However, Enzo wouldn’t let such cowardly tactics dissuade him. He had already survived a dozen assassination attempts over the years, and his inner cadre was on alert.

  He walked down the long corridor, his steps on the marble floors echoing. They were soon followed by two more pairs of footsteps. Austin and Matthew, brothers from the Hatchery who had been raised to full vessels.

  Enzo loosened the straps on his holster. “Is he here?”

  “Yes, Father,” Austin said. “With only two Epsilons.”

  “And our strength?”

  “Twenty inside the church. Forty on the perimeter.”

  “We could end it here,” Austin added. “Be done with this charade and focus on more important matters.”

  Breaking your word to your enemies is sound strategy, but not so when it is to your own people.

  “Of course, my Guardian.”

  Enzo shook his head. “Too much collateral risk with the rest of the Genjix. We can ill-afford the heat. Our credibility within the Council is already precarious. We will maintain the honor. Leave it to Vinnick to do otherwise. What about the perimeter?”

  “Akelatis has eyes on two of Vinnick’s extraction teams,” said Matthew.

  Enzo nodded. “Guess it’s a standoff then. First side to shoot takes the blame. Make sure it’s not us. And if they do shoot first, make sure we get the last shot.”

  They proceeded to the end of the hallway and walked up a set of stairs to an atrium. After several more turns down narrow passages, they entered a large circular room, empty except for a table and a chair placed in the center. There were two exits, one at the far end and one to Enzo’s right. There were tall windows on his left. As instructed, the curtains were pulled closed to prevent the possibility of snipers.

  The old man was seated in his wheelchair at the small round table in the center of the room, drinking delicately from a white teacup. Two large armored men stood guard at both sides of the door at the far end. Enzo recognized their suits and the bayonets attached to their holstered pistols.

  Matthew leaned into him. “Confirmed Panell and Corisa. Non-blessed.”

  Enzo studied the face of the man who for over ten years now had prevented him from fulfilling his destiny of assuming the full mantle of Genjix leadership. This was the first time the two of them had ever met face-to-face in all those years. In the past, they had always sparred either across a video screen or through intermediaries. It felt momentous, if a bit anti-climactic.

  After all, his sworn enemy looked positively awful. At a hundred-and-four, Vinnick was barely more than a bag of bones and blood, held together by tight, cracked and blotched skin, reinforced by thick wraps that covered most of his body. Half his head was bandaged, except for the white tufts of hair on top of his head. Enzo wondered what had happened to him. Was he sick? Was it safe for Enzo to be around him? Why had he even tried to stand against Enzo? The old man was on his deathbed!

  The old man sipped tea as Austin and Matthew took their positions at the door. Enzo made sure to look carefree and charming as he sauntered toward the table. “Hello, brother.”

  Vinnick snorted in a way only old men could without seeming foolish. “Boy.”

  His voice sounded different than over the screen. It was weak, high-pitched, and tired. It had also been months since they’d last spoken. Months for a hundred year-old man might as well have been a decade.

  Enzo reached out and picked up the teapot. He first filled Vinnick’s cup and then his own. “Sugar, brother?” The old man met his gaze with a contemptuous glare. Enzo shrugged and added two spoonfuls. Old men liked sweets, didn’t they? And if it wasn’t good for him, maybe it would kill him quicker.

  Touch him.

  “Zoras?”

  Identify him.

  Enzo studied the face again. It was possible. With those bandages and his wrinkled visage, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility for this to be an impostor. He reached out for Vinnick’s arm.

  The old man snatched his hand back. “Don’t touch me, boy!”

  “I insist,” Enzo snapped, reaching forward and gripping the old man’s frail wrists.

  Impostor. A non-vessel! Get out of the room now.

  Enzo lashed laterally with his opened palm and smashed the old man’s throat with his bare hands. To his right, several men burst through what must have been false panels and opened fire. Enzo felt a sharp pain in his arm as he dove to the ground. Before his assailants could get another shot off, four of them dropped. Matthew and Austin charged forward, pistols out and shooting. The table exploded into splinters as automatic fire shredded it. Enzo felt another bullet pierce his left shoulder as he rolled to his feet, pistol in his right hand and knife in his left.

  Thirty and twelve degrees right. One hundred left. Six degrees above eye level. Now!

  Two quick pops with his gun and one flick of his wrist later, two assailants lay dead by his hand. He ducked and spun just as a spray of bullets splattered the walls behind him. He felt another sharp pain in his thigh, a grazing shot that just missed his knee. By the time he had gotten his bearings, Matthew was hovering over him, while Austin, having shot two of the survivors point blank, was about to execute another.

  Then Austin dropped, shot down by the Epsilons at the far door. Both Matthew and Enzo engaged, hitting their marks. However, the two heavily armored Epsilons shrugged off the shots. Another gunshot felled Matthew. Enzo didn’t spare him another glance as he charged forward. The Epsilon got one more shot off point blank at his face. Enzo saw the bright flash of the chamber as he ducked to the right, the bullet nearly touching his cheek. He charged across the room and was on top of the man in half a second. He avoided a slash of the bayonet and shot an upward spear-hand into the soft tissue of the man’s chin, killing him in one blow.

  Enzo threw the limp body toward the other Epsilon and grappled with the man’s pistol. Then he broke the second Epsilon’s wrist with a sharp twist, took the pistol from him, and jammed the attached bayonet into the base of the man’s neck. Enzo casually tossed the body aside and went to check on his brothers. They were both still alive, though Austin was injured badly. He had suffered a gunshot wound to the stomach that had gotten under his armor. Matthew, fortunately, took one to the chest where his armor had withstood the impact.

  This entire church must be a trap. Get out. Now!

  “I’m not leaving my brothers.”

  “Help me with Austin,” he said, dragging Matthew to his feet.

  “Brother, go,” Matthew grimaced. “Your safety is paramount. We gladly serve…”

  “Quiet and help me.”

  The two of them, dragging Austin with them, fled the room through the door they had come through. Austin’s face was pale, and he was leaking a river of blood. If he died now, there was a chance his Holy One might not find another vessel in time. The three of them made it halfway down the hallway when an explosion rocked the church, blowing them forward as a rush of hot air lifted them off the ground.

  Everything went black under a rolling cloud of dust. When Enzo came to, fire raged all around, the old church with its many priceless re
lics burning and melting in front of his eyes. Ignoring the sharp pain in his leg, Enzo pulled himself to his feet and picked up his two brothers.

  Austin was unconscious, having taken the brunt of the explosion, the left side of his once-beautiful face now marred by burns. Matthew came to a second later, in only slightly better shape. Together, the two of them picked Austin back up and carried him down the stairs. They were met halfway by Enzo’s perimeter security, who helped get them outside to safety.

  A few minutes later, as the doctors checked on the three Adonises, a veritable army of fire trucks and ambulances swooped in. They were soon accompanied by fifty Genjix operatives, who canvased the area.

  Enzo pushed the doctor fussing with his shoulder aside and struggled to stand as Akelatis, the Adonis who was responsible for securing the church, approached and fell to a knee. “How did Vinnick get those men in there?” he thundered. “How did we not detect them?”

  Akelatis looked ashamed. “I’m sorry, Father. I have failed. They must have planted those men into the walls for over five days.”

  And the extraction teams that were in wait?

  Enzo repeated Zoras’s question.

  Akelatis shook his head. “They never moved in. They pulled back as soon as the explosion happened.”

  Enzo swore. It was ruse all along. The worst part was, Vinnick had made the entire meeting seem like it was Enzo’s idea, and he had fallen for it.

  See to your men.

  “What about our casualties?” he asked.

  “Fourteen dead. Nineteen injured. Six missing as of this moment, Father.”

  Enzo balled his fists together. So much for this being a Genjix unification. The stubborn bastard was intent on fighting to the very end. Very well, if that’s the way he wanted to play it, Enzo would treat him as he did everything else that stood in his way.

  “Call the Assembly,” he said. “We’re going to war.”

  6