The Rebirths of Tao

by Wesley Chu

  That should be your signal to stop.

  That was what Tao would say next. Instead, Roen doubled down and tried to make up for his mistake. “No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, you seem to know your wines, which is funny because I didn’t think this place, this town even, would attract…” He stopped.

  The woman shot him an insulted look and then pointed at the group of men in the corner staring back at them. “You see that table over there with the four big guys? They’re with me, so I suggest you just fuck off.”

  Roen swiveled his head and saw what looked like the offensive line for the Oregon State football team. They all waved in unison, none of them looking particularly friendly. Immediately, two scenarios popped up into his head. One involved shooting everyone and running out the back, and the other leaving that offensive line crippled and The Woodchuck Chuck a busted-up mess. He’d also still have to run out the back. They probably would have to find a new surveillance place too; one that didn’t serve cheap beer.

  Roen grimaced and swallowed his pride. He waved back. “Sorry to bother you,” he mumbled, beating a hasty retreat.

  “What the devil was all that about?” Marco asked. “I know she’s the only woman in the pub but you really are all sorts of rusty, aren’t you?”

  “Shut up,” Roen said. It still bothered him. He didn’t recognize her face. Could she be a Genjix? He wished Tao was here right now so he could confirm through touch. He wished Tao was here right now for a lot of reasons. His old friend wouldn’t have let him put his foot into his mouth so badly. Heck, if Tao were here, he would just find her in Roen’s memory for him. Most of all, he just missed his friend, and it was times like this that reminded Roen of all the small things that Tao meant to him.

  They stayed at the bar for another thirty minutes. It seemed Helen was having a hard time getting discharged. Damn hospitals always moved at a snail’s pace. She and Elias could probably just run out, but it would look suspicions.

  It was getting loud at The Woodchuck Chuck. More patrons had come in, two locals and a few more who joined that woman’s group in the back. They were getting rowdy, as if an old, well-acquainted group. The decibels increased even more as the drinks continued to flow. One more thing Roen learned while here; never try to out-drink Marco. The Englishman was wiping the floor with him.

  “Never try to keep up with an Englishman. It’s practically our national pastime.” Marco held up a glass of beer and a glass of cola in each hand. “See, it’s all in the wrists and the combo. Slam one, then the other. Rinse. Repeat.”

  It hit Roen right after he finished his seventh beer. He was walking back from his fourth trip to the restroom when that crowd in the corner roared with laughter, and the woman spoke. “Daws, every family has a resident idiot, and you’re ours. It’s okay, though; you’re my idiot, so I’ve got your back.”

  Roen stumbled. That voice again. That awkward fit in her suit. She wasn’t a stout woman; she was wearing armor. Then he realized who she was. Blood drained from his face as he sat back down at the table.

  Marco gave him a quizzical look. “You all right there, Roen? You’re looking a little shaky.”

  Roen motioned with his head back toward that group. “Get your stuff together. We should leave. Those guys back there are IXTF.”

  Marco angled a very obvious look their way. “Well, Ahngr and I had devised a plan to take them out earlier when you seemed to be within their cross-hairs. Seems we still might have to put it in action then.”

  “Take out the big one second from the right first?” Roen asked.

  Marco nodded. “The strong looking bloke. How did you find out?”

  “Her voice. I’ve taunted that woman mercilessly over the past three years. She’s Special Agent Kallis, Regional Director of the IXTF. Supposedly, she’s a big shot at Interpol.”

  Marco whistled. “Seems you do have a talent for pissing off the right people. Fancy meeting her at a place like this.”

  “Could only mean one thing. She’s come for Prie.”

  The two watched out of the corners of their eyes as Kallis got up and went to the log counter again, presumably to order another round of pitchers.

  “I think I’m going to talk to her right now,” Marco said, standing up.

  “Don’t do it. It’s too risky.”

  “Keep your enemies closer,” the Brit grinned as he sauntered over to Kallis and struck up a conversation.

  The only thing Roen heard was “sorry about my friend over there” and then laughter. He scowled as Marco did that Marco-thing of his for the next fifteen minutes. Then, much to his chagrin, Marco brought Kallis back to the table.

  “Ralphy, old boy,” Marco said, mouth turned up from ear to ear. “I believe you’ve already met Special Agent Fran Kallis from the, I’m sorry, what was your MI6 American equivalent again?”

  Kallis laughed and stuck out her hand. “IXTF, and we’re not American. It’s an international task force. Sorry about that rough introduction earlier. I see a lot of creeps in my line of work, so it’s sort of an automatic defensive reaction.”

  Roen plastered a smile on his face as he shook her hand. “No, it’s all right,” he said in a gruff voice. “It was totally my bad.”

  “So Cornelius tells me you guys are business partners out here.”

  Roen almost spit out his beer.

  “Yes,” Marco butted in quickly. “Redwood lumber is highly sought after over in the UK.”

  “It’s a long way to go to buy wood,” Kallis said.

  “Well, we like to cut out the middle man,” Roen said, playing along, “and source from the um, source.” That didn’t come out as smoothly as he had hoped.

  Fortunately, Kallis didn’t dig deeper, and they moved the conversation back to her. It seemed Marco made a good call making contact with Kallis. She and her team had made the six-hour drive from their headquarters in Seattle to retrieve an injured fugitive at the hospital across the street. Once the guy stabilized, they were going to bring him back for interrogation.

  “So how long will you be in town, then?” Marco asked, turning his flirt on.

  “Whenever the doctors give us the green light,” she said. “Probably a week. Until then, I’m putting my guys, those meatheads back there –” she gestured at the back table. They waved. “– on guard twenty-four-seven.”

  “What did the guy do?” Roen asked. “Is he dangerous?”

  Kallis was understandably evasive in her response. “I really can’t get into it, Ralphy.” She paused. “You know, now that I think about it, there’s something familiar about you.”

  Roen coughed and lowered his voice even more. “I think I was just mistaken.”

  “Anyway,” Marco’s laugh was a little forced. “We have to get to an appointment with the lumberjacks soon.” He made a show of patting his pants. “I seemed to have forgotten my business cards. May I be honored with your mobile?”

  Kallis was too tough to titter, but for a second, she looked like she almost did. Her face flushed a little red and she handed him a card. “You ever get up to Seattle, Cornelius?”

  “Our next stop actually,” he said. “I won’t have to wait until next week, will I?”

  Kallis looked around the bar. “Guess your company will help pass the time in this small town.” She flashed him one last smile, finished her wine, and then walked back to her table.

  Once they were alone, Roen leaned toward him. “Ralphy? I sort of hate you right now.”

  Marco, all grins, looked at Roen and winked. He picked up his glass and downed it. “That’s nine beers.”

  “And Cornelius? What kind of dumb ass cover name is that?”

  “Wanted to feed her stereotype. That’s all. Regardless, we have good intel now and the access we need. I suggest we take advantage of this opportunity.”

  Roen nodded. “A week is a little shorter than we had planned, but if we play our cards right, she’ll at the very least tell you when she’s leaving town. We won’t have to
guess. You just need to work that relationship while we’re here. Good job.”

  “Someone has to do the hard work,” Marco smirked. Roen wanted to punch the smug look off his face.

  Let it go. Marco has always been like this. He is purposely pushing your buttons. Do not fall for it.

  Roen listened to his inner Tao and did his best to shrug it off. Marco and Roen drove off in the car, giving every impression of heading for their meeting, then parked up in a quiet layby and waited to hear from Helen and Elias, who called in a few minutes later. They had finally checked out of the emergency room and were heading to the station wagon.

  Marco sniffed as they drove back to the hotel. “I’ll never pass as a businessman to Fran in this infernal contraption. What do you think about driving down to Boise and picking up a real automobile for me?”

  This time, Roen didn’t listen to his inner Tao and thumped Marco on the shoulder.

  22

  Cleansing

  Certain groups within the once-unanimous collective insisted that if humanity was allowed to prosper, innovation would come as well. Every experience I have had with this species, from the stagnation of the Roman Empire to the world-cleansing fire of the Black Plague, showed me that was not the case.

  Do I have regrets about the chaos and deaths caused by our nurturing? Does a farmer regret the devastation he inflicts on the land when he tills it? Does a builder regret carving a city out of the flesh of a mountain? It is easy to think that the Holy Ones want nothing but to wage endless war. That is far from the truth. What we do is for the greater good.

  Zoras

  * * *

  Enzo raised his fist and signaled for a stop. They were two levels below the metro and moving deeper underground. By Zoras’s calculations, they were near the final turn of the entry tunnel below Vinnick’s base of operations in Moscow. It would be a brazen act, one the Russian would not expect, especially so soon after the recent turn of events. However, Enzo had no choice but to strike quickly.

  You will trip the perimeter alarms in that final stretch. Belay until the last moment. Once the attack commences, there is no turning back. You know the price of failure.

  “Yes, my Guardian. I have lived with that knowledge since I was first blessed with you. Have I not lived up to your expectations?”

  When the risks you embrace are this high, only one punishment exists.

  “Then I am fortunate not to fail. The risks I take have always paved the way to victory.”

  We shall see if that continues. It will catch up with you one day.

  “Luck does swing both ways. What I accomplish has nothing to do with luck.”

  The last turn led to a steep hundred-meter upward incline. This was as far as they were going to get before making their move. He signaled for a stop and looked back at the nine men and women walking behind him single-file in the darkness of the Moscow sewer. These were the finest operatives he had; his Hatchery siblings and the highest of the non-blessed operatives who hoped to prove themselves today for the honor of being blessed with a Holy One. This group would serve as the Trojan Horse into Vinnick’s Troy. If they failed, the odds against them would be high. However, while Vinnick’s Epsilons were good, they were not at the level of those trained in the Hatchery.

  Enzo looked over at Azumi, Matthew, and Akelatis. He wished he could have brought more of his brothers, but they were needed elsewhere. Jacob was still hunting for the rogue scientist, and Palos – not a true Hatchery product, but still reliable – was watching over their new convert Natalya and her Spetsnaz.

  Converting her had been surprisingly simple. Slipping in a shade container with a newborn Quasing while she was in the sitting room had done the trick. After she recovered from the initial sickness and realized what she had become, her loyalty to her government immediately wavered. With the politics of this region, all vessels were pariahs, and without the support of the Genjix, it was practically a death sentence in Russia.

  Her loyalty was further strengthened when she became overwhelmed by the non-sentient newborn’s mewing, rendering her incapacitated until given the suppression medication. Once she found out that the Genjix were the only ones who could continue to provide her with the medication to stop the sounds in her head, the deal was sealed, and she embraced her new blessing willingly. Even now, Natalya was assisting Paolo in converting the rest of the Spetsnaz with more of the shade team.

  Enzo believed that loyalty and faith were better tools than blackmail, but he was low on options, and patience, for that matter. The first of the four catalyst facilities in North America was nearly completed. He should be there overseeing those projects instead of playing political games here. This was a tremendous waste of time. However, Quasiform could not occur unless all the catalyst facilities worked in sync, and since five of the facilities were in Vinnick’s domain, he would have to be dealt with before Enzo could proceed.

  Remember the Council directives on your rules of engagement.

  Those damn rules. Would Vinnick’s people obey them? They hadn’t back at the church. He had little faith that they would in this situation. There always seemed to be another set of Council rules when it pertained to Enzo.

  That is always the case. The envious always band together against the strong.

  What they did was irrelevant. Enzo was a true believer and followed the Holy Ones; that was all that mattered. He turned to his people. “Kill all who stand against you. No incendiaries. Your life is forfeit if a Holy One perishes.”

  The group nodded and prepared for the attack, stripping their packs and loading their rifles. Enzo gave his people a few minutes to collect themselves. He took his most prized possession, the Honjo Masamune sword, and strapped it to his waist. The famous samurai sword, long thought lost after World War II, had been in Sean Diamont’s care for years. Jacob had offered it to him as a pledge of his servitude when he first begged to be blessed with Chiyva.

  When it was time, he intoned, “Praise to the Holy Ones.”

  “Praise to the Holy Ones,” they echoed.

  Enzo slung his rifle onto his back and walked up the steep set of stairs at the side of the sewage tunnel leading up to the basement of the Genjix Moscow headquarters. He heard the whirl of a detection device attached to the ceiling focus on him and the clicks of the thermal imager registering his heat signature. No doubt they were Penetra scanned as well, all procedural and nothing out-of-the-ordinary for a Genjix base.

  Vinnick’s forces should register them as friendly. This network of tunnels had been used by the Genjix for hundreds of years in this city. They wouldn’t know that they were under attack until the first shots were fired. By then, it would be too late.

  They reached the main entrance, a large metal door with a display embedded in stone. Enzo gestured to Lagunov, a non-blessed logistics operative with aspirations of bearing a Holy One. Buying him from Vinnick had been a simple affair. A promise of a Holy One, albeit of low standing, was all that he needed. The man just wanted to ensure a place in the loyalty havens once Quasiform began.

  Such easily bought loyalty means it can be easily sold again.

  “And will reflect on his new standing.”

  Lagunov punched a code into a small terminal, and the door hissed open. Enzo kept his face down as his group entered a long corridor with a window to a security room on the left side. He should be the only one these common soldiers could recognize. No vessel or Epsilon would work security, after all.

  The guard at the other end spoke to Lagunov over the speaker, and he placed a set of forged documents into a tray, much as if they were running a transaction through a bank drive-through. The conversation continued for a few seconds and rose in volume as the guard was unable to corroborate the forged documents.

  Enzo, keeping his back to the window, leaned into Lagunov. “I thought you had this end secured.”

  “Apologies, Father,” he stammered. “I will work through this shortly.”

  There were metal do
ors at both ends of the corridor. If Vinnick’s security forces caught on right now, Enzo’s people would be trapped. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Lagunov struggled to convince the security guard to just open the door. That damn Vinnick ran an operation with so much red tape. Eventually, Enzo ran out of patience.

  Enzo turned and faced the guard. “Do you know who I am?” The man nodded, the blood draining from his face. “Good, brother,” he smiled. “We have pressing matters. Open the door.”

  The guard fumbled with the intercom. “I’ll clear this upstairs immediately, Father.”

  “You will do no such thing,” Enzo remarked. “Open the door if you value your life. The Holy One demands it. The survival of the Genjix depends on this, and you will be rewarded for making the right decision.” The security guard hesitated before pushing a series of buttons. The inner door of the corridor clicked and slid open.

  “Take him out now,” Enzo murmured to Matthew as he passed. He had no use for such gullible fools.

  The fireworks began right as he walked through the door. His well-trained team spread out and moved efficiently through the lower level tunnel foyer. Matthew went to the security room door and shot the foolish guard. He looked back at Enzo and nodded. “We have the floor, Father.”

  “Lock it down. Bring in the main group,” Enzo barked, hoisting a rifle and taking position watching one of the four doors leading out of the room. A few seconds later, the outer door to the sewers swung open, and a small army of his loyal units flooded the building. They separated into kill teams, each led by one of his Hatchery siblings, and spread out through the complex. Akelatis led two units toward the garage, while Matthew took three units to secure the front entrance. That left Enzo to take care of Vinnick somewhere in the upper levels of the building. He signaled for Azumi and her units to fall in line.

  You should retreat to safety and allow your siblings to take it from here.

  “You know me better than that, Zoras. I lead by example. That is why my people are so loyal.”