The Rebirths of Tao

by Wesley Chu

  Jacob stood over them and smirked. “Father and son. Both weak losers. I shall relish my final justice.”

  You have to find the calm, Cameron. It is our only chance.

  “I’m trying, Tao. I can’t.”

  Roen picked himself up again. Cameron was amazed at how his dad could still be standing after taking such a beating. Jacob had done a number on his face, and with the way his arm hung at his side, there was no way he could protect himself, let alone attack an Adonis Vessel. Still, Cameron watched with amazement and worry as his father stumbled toward Jacob.

  “Get out of here, Cam!” Roen cried, and attacked once more.

  To Cameron’s horror, the one-armed Roen whiffed on several left-handed swings only to take a couple more smacks to the face that staggered him. Then, to everyone’s surprise, he lunged forward and clocked Jacob hard, hitting him with a really solid punch across the chin that knocked the Adonis to the ground. Instead of pressing his advantage, Roen stopped and looked Cameron’s way.

  Their eyes locked and Roen communicated volumes with his stare. As the blood dripped form his smashed nose and large gash on his brow, as it poured out of the side of his mouth, his father said goodbye. With that one look, he told Cameron that he loved him. That his sacrifice had better not be in vain. He told Cameron to find his mother, to say goodbye for him. To tell her that he loved her. Finally, Roen told Cameron that he was proud of him, more than anything in the world. That he could die knowing how his son had grown up. Most of all though, Roen was telling Cameron to just get the hell out of there.

  And then the look was gone, and Roen focused back on Jacob, who was still picking himself up off the ground. Roen growled, a low guttural snarl, ran forward and kicked Jacob in the ribs, eliciting a grunt from the Adonis Vessel. Then he punched down, clocking Jacob across the face, followed by another kick to the midsection. His dad continued to press, cutting Jacob’s scalp open with his knuckles and hammering at Jacob’s face with his one good arm. This turning of the tide was brief as Roen tired, and Jacob tossed up a spectacular kick out of nowhere that snapped Roen’s head to the side. Roen stumbled a few steps more and collapsed in a heap.

  I hate this, but your father is right. Better one survives than neither.

  Using the side of the pallets for support, Cameron clawed his way back to his feet and dragged himself away from the scene. He looked back one more time at his father, probably the last time he ever would. Roen saw him leaving and actually smiled through the blood and swelling on his face. “You made the right choice, son,” he was saying. Then a kick from Jacob flashed across his face, and he collapsed again. Cameron couldn’t look anymore.

  He rounded the corner of the stack, took two steps toward the door, and fell to his knees. It physically pained him to take another step and leave his father like this. It felt wrong and cowardly, and he knew that this decision would haunt him for the rest of his life. It didn’t matter that damned Tao and his damned father both had told him to leave, that it was the right thing to do. He loved his father too much to do the right thing. Every fiber of his being told him that the price he’d pay wouldn’t be worth it.

  Cameron closed his eyes and breathed in. And out. Then he inhaled again, each successive breath longer and deeper and slower. It was one of the most difficult things he’d ever have to do, to attempt to find the calm in the midst of panic, to try to find that balance and peace when he knew his father was being beaten to death a few meters away. He knew that the more desperately he wanted it, the harder it’d be to grasp. So he breathed. In. Out. Instead of being a drowning man grasping for the surface of the water, he let go.

  When he opened his eyes again, he felt a surge of energy. He was still there, conscious, and the control of his body was as simple as putting his hands on the steering wheel, but right now, Tao was in control, and this connection was stronger than it had ever been. Tao powered up his body and shot it around the corner and back at Jacob.

  Jacob saw him coming and took a defensive stance as Cameron attacked. They clashed, and he threw a combination of elbows, leg kicks, and arm locks, all while sidestepping whatever the Adonis threw at him. Jacob’s eyes widened as he realized that something was different here. The speed between their exchanges, the attacking and defending, the quick movements and tactics, was blinding.

  Jacob proved stronger, but Tao was faster, and his movements were smoother. Tao took a few hard blows to the face and stomach, but in return he hacked at Jacob’s left knee until it buckled. Their exchange continued for several minutes as both used the terrain to their advantage, playing a deadly form of tag. Cameron could feel both Tao and his body weakening, but he trusted Tao to pull through. However, nearly five minutes into their frantic fight, Tao finally gave out.

  I cannot maintain control. This is too much.

  And then Cameron felt his entire body sag as full control returned. He nearly fell on his ass. Jacob was hardly in better shape. Both men were exhausted as they broke their exchange and eyed each other warily.

  Jacob, unsteady on his feet, smirked. “You put up a really good fight, boy. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

  His beautiful Adonis face was a mass of purple putty, and by this time, he was dragging his useless feet along the ground. Cameron was even worse off, though, if that were possible. The entire left side of his body screamed from pain, and his left eye was so puffy, he couldn’t see out of it. Jacob watched as Cameron straightened his back and readied for one more round in their fight.

  Cameron was on his own now. No more Tao. No more master to guide him. The two stalked in a circle, each probing for the right time to attack. Cameron leaped in, but was easily repelled by Jacob dancing to the side and popping him once in the cheek for his troubles. Cameron got a kick to the side of Jacob’s knee that nearly buckled him.

  “What’s the matter, boy?”

  You can do this. Tao’s voice was so weak he could barely hear it in his head. He is as exhausted as you are. You are ready. Your parents and I believe in you. We are all with you.

  It heartened him that Tao was still there, and it reminded him that he was fighting not just for himself, but for his dad and for his Quasing. They depended on him. He couldn’t fail them, but he knew he couldn’t beat this guy. Jacob was stronger, more skilled, and faster. He held every advantage.

  Then Master Lin popped into his mind. The wise old kung fu master was fond of saying that winning a fight was sixty percent aggression, twenty-five percent conditioning, and twenty percent skill. Cameron never had the heart to tell Lin that he sucked at math.

  In this case, Cameron was outmatched on two of the three, but that aggression he could manage. There was nothing more desperate for him than winning this fight. Right now, exhausted and outmatched, aggression was all he had left. He thought about his family and their destroyed house, then he saw the disgusting smirk on Jacob’s face. Cameron dug deep; the only thing left was to charge, to just keep going until he was dead. He gave his unconscious father one last glance, then dug deeper and darker than he ever had, and with a snarl, focused his aggression on one thing.

  The attack took Jacob by surprise. The Adonis’s leg was too injured to dodge Cameron barreling into him. He managed to pop Cameron in the face once, and then the two were on the ground with Cameron on top. Blinded by fury and desperation, he attacked on instinct and left nothing back.

  All he could see were the images of his family and loved ones, of his Prophus friends lost and of the life they had had to lead for all those years of being hunted by the Genjix. In addition, he saw an image of Edward Blair, of Zhu Yuanzhang, and of Rianno Cisneros. All the pain and grief Jacob, Chiyva, and the Genjix had inflicted upon Tao and Cameron, he repaid now.

  The exchange last a few seconds or a few minutes or an hour, Cameron didn’t know. In the end, he stopped only when his arms gave out and he saw a white sparkling glow leave Jacob’s body. His eyes followed as the light moved and flitted in the air, first to the locked door on one
side, and then all the way across to the other. It moved from the bodies of the dead Genjix, floating over each one by one. Then it moved into the center of the room as if trying to decide what to do next. Cameron looked to the side and saw his father lying unconscious a few meters away. The thought of the Genjix inhabiting Roen filled Cameron with abject terror.

  Chiyva must have thought the same thing. Realizing that Roen could be the only host available in the room, the Quasing moved toward his father. Cameron searched desperately for a way to prevent the Genjix from inhabiting his father. He looked down at Jacob’s belt and saw the handheld flamethrower. Quickly plucking it out of his harness, he stood over his father’s body and shot a stream of flames into the air, keeping Chiyva at bay.

  “Stay back, you bastard!” he screamed, the words coming out garbled in his blood-soaked mouth.

  Chiyva darted left and right, trying to get around the flames, but Cameron followed the sparkling being’s path, shooting bursts at the Quasing if it got too close. The two sparred for several minutes, until finally, in a fit of desperation, Chiyva went low and dove for Roen’s body. Cameron stepped in front of his father and shot a full burst directly into the Quasing. He watched grimly as the flames consumed the sparkling white creature until pieces of it, like embers of a fire, floated up into the darkness.

  When he was sure there was nothing left of Chiyva, Cameron fell onto his back next to Roen’s body, too exhausted and hurt to move. He thought about passing out, thought about how nice it would be to sleep it off. Maybe never wake up again. It wouldn’t be a bad way to go, would it? Then he thought about his father. Was Roen still alive? He opened his mouth and tried to call his dad’s name. Nothing came out. It took him a few more tries before he could muster the syllables together and force them out of his mouth.

  “Roen?”

  There was a long pause and whatever worry Cameron’s broken body could muster began to grow. Was he too late?

  “What did I say about calling me Dad?” Roen’s voice was weak, barely a whisper, but it came across clearly in the otherwise dead-silent room. “And when did you get such a filthy mouth?”

  And just like that, the panic disappeared, replaced by a glowing sense of relief. “Are you alive?”

  “I think so, but I kind of wish I was dead.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re not.”

  “That’s why you’re the only one who can sign the Do-Not-Resuscitate form, not your mom.”

  Cameron chuckled, and it hurt worse than he ever imagined. He thought about getting up, but decided he liked the floor here way too much. “We should probably get out of here. Mom’s going to be worried.”

  Roen raised his head off the floor. “Is Jacob dead?”

  “Yeah, Dad. I killed him. Got Chiyva too.”

  “Cool.” He heard a shuffling to the side and then a groan. “Argh. I think I broke my arm.” He heard more shuffling. “Damn it, I think I broke both arms. Cameron, you’re going to need to help your old man up.”

  Epilogue

  Timestamp: 3887

  One thing that I do know, and this is irrefutable, the war will continue. The players will come and go. The names and faces will change, but there will always be a new host to take the place of fallen comrades. That’s how it has always been since the beginning, and how it always will be after we’re all dead and buried. This will continue until, as the Quasing like to say, we meet in the Eternal Sea.

  All right, I think we’re done here. I’m hungry. What’s for dinner?

  * * *

  Enzo woke up in a stale white room. That buzzing. A fly? No, the harsh fluorescent light. A sharp white glow stung his eyes. He squeezed them shut, but the white still seeped through; he covered them with his hand and took several deep breaths. He felt some pain, a lot of discomfort, but mostly just numbness. They must have pumped a lot of drugs into him.

  Everything was out of focus, from the sterile-colored walls, to the sound of chatter just outside the room, to his hazy memories. What happened? He thought he heard Zoras speak, but couldn’t quite make out the words. His Holy One’s voice sounded more like an itch on the back of his brain than a divine God channeling wisdom into his head.

  Enzo closed his eyes, squeezed them tight. Slowly, the world came into focus as his senses collected themselves. The chatter outside the room coalesced into words he understood: Mandarin. The color of the walls, the distinct sterility of this particular facility, the feel of the sheets. This was the 301 Military Hospital; he was back at home in Beijing. He had cheated death, though to his shame, had not pulled victory from the jaws of defeat. It was his first, and Enzo swore, his last.

  Zoras was saying something, and bit by bit, the words became clear. His Holy One was telling him to rest, not to move, to push the remote near his right hand to fetch the nurse and inject more painkillers into his bloodstream. He decided to forgo both for now until he had a better grip of his surroundings. He tried to sit up in bed, and had to stop as pain surged up his body, which changed his mind on the painkillers. He pushed the button and felt the immediate effect of the morphine coursing through his body.

  Gritting his teeth, Enzo tried to sit up again. After all, he was not only an Adonis, he was the leader of the Council. He would not hold court lying in bed. He forced himself into a seated position. For the first time, he noticed the tubes sticking into his arm, his chest, his nose. He reached up to yank them out.

  Leave them. Your injuries are many and severe.

  “How long have I been gone? What happened?”

  It has been three days since you were evacuated from the loyalty haven. Two Chinese destroyers were deployed to the Beaufort Sea and a commando team extracted all the survivors. Palos saved your life.

  “His standing has been raised. I will see to it.”

  Now there are other things you must attend to. The remnants of your Assembly are nearby.

  “Amanda,” Enzo said, the words coming out in a slur. “Amanda. Attend me.”

  His assistant popped her head in and gave a start. “Father,” she said, walking in and bowing. “We did not expect you to wake for another day or two.”

  “Assemble.”

  “But, Father.” She looked uneasy. “The doctors recommend rest.”

  “Assemble!” he snapped.

  In a few minutes, the remnants of his inner circle were gathered. The absent faces spelled out which of his brothers and sisters had fallen. Only a few of his younger siblings were here, and none of the ones he had grown up with at the Hatchery.

  There were a few new faces too, not from the Assembly. What were they doing here? That girl – Mengsk’s daughter, no doubt trying to reclaim her position and ownership of her father’s wealth. Well, those funds would be needed now to rebuild Genjix operations. There was another boy next to her, Hatchery-trained by the looks of him, possibly a new vessel, given the casualties they had sustained recently. Well, he would need good people around him to recover from this mess.

  He looked each person over. “We will have to grow a new Assembly. There is too much work, and I have too few I trust.” He looked over at Palos and acknowledged the grizzled vessel’s contribution to saving his life. “How are our operations in Russia?”

  “Unstable, Father. The remnants of Vinnick’s operation have united and are allying themselves with the new vessels in the Federal Assembly. You left a vacuum in Russia before the situation stabilized, and they took advantage. Much of what you gained will need to be recaptured.”

  “And the North American continent?”

  “The IXTF is now in control of both the catalyst facility and the loyalty haven,” Amanda said, scanning her tablet. “Total casualties at the loyalty haven were eighty-seven percent. The catalyst facility…” she paused, “… fought to the last man. It was total attrition.”

  “More importantly, what of the catalyst reaction rods?” he asked.

  “Between the two facilities, a total of twenty tons of the catalyst reaction rods are now i
n Interpol’s hands.”

  Twenty. Tons.

  That was half of their global stock. It would take ten years before they could replenish that amount. Damn Vinnick for stealing the rods. This delay had proven so costly. The others on the Council would use this against him.

  Not just the others. All the Holy Ones feel that this catastrophe could have been avoided.

  “My standing is lowered. I understand. Still, time is meaningless. We can rebuild.”

  There is something else. Ask Amanda to bring forth Weston.

  Enzo complied, wondering who that was.

  The young man at the back next to Alex came forth and fell to one knee. “Father,” he said reverently.

  “Who is this boy, Zoras?”

  Stand up and greet him.

  “Why?”

  Do as I command, vessel.

  Not quite understanding the order, he pulled the tubes and needles out of his body – the ones going up his nose in particular hurt – and tried to get out of bed, except when he twisted his waist to swing his legs over the edge, they didn’t obey. Puzzled, he tried again. Nothing happened. Then he realized that he couldn’t feel his toes or feet. He poked his thigh with his fingers. There was no sensation.

  “It can’t be,” he muttered, more perplexed than anything. “I don’t understand.”

  It is as I feared; you are paralyzed.

  Enzo looked down at the body that had failed him, and then up at the circle of people standing around the bed. It must be awkward for them to stand over him like this. Well, they had better get used to it, then. His recovery could take a long time.

  “It seems my injuries are more serious than I thought,” he began. “I’ll need more staff to assist me during the physical therapy.”

  No, Enzo.

  “My Guardian?”