by Wesley Chu
“Proceed. Quickly, and today. Do we have a volunteer?”
Chow nodded again. “Heisenberg, a lowly regarded vessel, and his Holy One Danli have volunteered to be the sacrifice. We are prepared to translate Quasing light signals.”
Enzo allowed a smile to break out on his face. “Very well then. Have Danli enter the vat immediately. You better pray you are successful, Chow. If so, your standing has been raised. Your place among all the Holy Ones is secured, and you will be honored for your accomplishments from this point on until the Eternal Sea. If this is another false positive though, I will have your hide.”
Then Enzo sat in front of the screen and waited, watching as the scientists scurried around, preparing the first Genjix volunteer to enter the vats. Then he watched Heisenberg jump into the vat. Interestingly, this current formula dissolved human flesh. Within minutes, Heisenberg was nothing more than a pile of bones floating in the container. Then he noticed Danli floating within the red liquid, blinking. A few minutes later, Chow reported in again with a simple message from Danli:
CONDITIONS ARE IDEAL INDISCERNIBLE FROM QUASAR PROCREATION POSSIBLE
“Get four other volunteers in quickly!” Enzo ordered. “I want results on an attempt immediately.”
The next six hours were the longest in Enzo’s life. He spent the entire time watching the screen, not leaving the war room unless he absolutely had to. Enzo cursed for not being back at Qingdao to witness this triumph in person. Still, he sat and waited and watched patiently as four other volunteer vessels sacrificed their lives in the vat alongside Danli. For those hours, he stayed glued to the screen while the five Quasing mingled. Even when the Prophus launched an attack, Enzo sent Palos to take care of the defense. He would not leave until this latest experiment was concluded. Finally, a message from Chow came through loud and clear. The five Quasing had successfully created life.
A new god had been born.
Unbelievable. It has happened.
Unbelievable was right. Enzo stared at the screen for a good five minutes as Chow relayed the news. Inside, he could feel Zoras churning with excitement. To Enzo personally, this was just a passing milestone, a step on his climb to leading all of the Genjix. He had only been involved in the project for a few months and while proud, he could not even begin to feel the jubilation his Holy One felt. He was simply the right vessel at the right time.
For Zoras, this was a milestone after millennia of maneuvering, the culmination of a century of planning from when the Genjix first realized that the Quasing might become extinct before they accomplished their original goal of returning to Quasar. With ProGenesis, Zoras had just ensured that the Quasing would continue on even if their numbers dwindled. This victory also sealed the Prophus’ fate. It wouldn’t be a surprise if the Prophus unconditionally capitulated once they learn that the Genjix had successfully birthed new Quasing.
“Your will, mighty Zoras. Your victory.”
A victory for the Genjix. For all Quasing.
Today was a great day. Enzo stood up, rubbed his tired eyes, and looked outside. It was dark except for the tower lights scanning the perimeter. He had been so focused on what was occurring in the labs that he had forgotten everything else. Not that anything else mattered. His mission was a success, and now the Genjix could move to the final phase: Catalyst.
The necessity of this camp was also now in question, as were the prisoners. These were just loose ends that needed to be cleaned up. He considered his options. He could just do it quietly and with little trouble, but it seemed a waste. Why not force the Prophus’ hand? Make them grind their forces toward certain death through no-man’s-land toward entrenched Genjix forces. It seemed to Enzo a fitting end to this conflict. He still owed Stephen a debt, after all.
Enzo turned to Palos leaning against the door. “Build a platform, gather all the prisoners, and then shoot them; publicly for all the Prophus to see.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
HIDEOUT
His death broke Dania, who immediately retired from active duty. She lived out the rest of her life in peace, raising young Sonya. During those years, I was kept out of the war. However, I did not mind. Dania had experienced great loss and deserved her peace. She developed cancer and died with Sonya by her side, and I enjoyed a rare peaceful transition.
I began to train Sonya. She benefitted from having known of us since she was a child. Even at a young age, Sonya proved gifted in all ways that a Prophus finds valuable. Beautiful, physically talented, intelligent, and forceful, she was extraordinary and showed potential for greatness.
Baji
Jill leaned into the microphone hidden within the recess of the stone wall and paused. Then she looked back at the sixty survivors, the remnants of the Prophus political operation in the United States. Out of nine senators, twenty-eight representatives, one cabinet member, twenty-four federal judges, and nearly three hundred aides and officials, only these scared and exhausted souls had made it out of the city alive.
The Genjix had brazenly swept into the city with overwhelming numbers. Some of the pitched firefights had numbered fifty combatants, turning the streets of the capital into a veritable war zone. Command estimated that two thousand Genjix had encircled the beltway and squeezed in. Paula’s team of two hundred had stood no chance of mounting a defense. The only thing they could do was delay the enemy long enough for survivors to escape. It was to Paula’s credit that even this many had made it.
Marco was currently out with the scouts herding stragglers to this rendezvous point. Time was of the essence. There were still pockets of Prophus hiding, having eluded the Penetra vans. The longer the remaining operatives stayed out there, the greater their risk of discovery.
Initial reports of casualties were catastrophic. Both Senators Brant and Lim were dead. Eleven Representatives were confirmed dead alongside their Quasing. Judges Rhiew and Hellen were captured and presumed dead. Of those in Congress, only Senators Thompson and Wilks, and Representatives James and Howard had made it here. The rest of their people were unaccounted for.
Jill put her hand on Paula’s arm. “You saved a lot of people.” The woman looked like she was about to fall over.
“Just open the bloody rock,” Paula muttered.
Jill coughed and spoke in a hushed voice. “Baby bear versus the big city.” The panel dinged like a bell signaling tea time, and a green light lit up. There was a hiss from the side while the door swung open. Jill turned and waved everyone through.
“Baby bear, huh?” A small smile escaped Paula’s face as she walked by.
“Long story,” Jill shrugged. “He’s quirky like that.”
The survivors dragged themselves into their new temporary home and made themselves comfortable. Already, Paula’s team was setting up a command post in the kitchen while the non-military personnel erected an infirmary and living quarters in Roen’s bedroom and living room. Within a few minutes, Roen’s hole in the mountain transformed into the new base of operations.
Too exhausted to sleep, she decided to explore her husband’s home. The first time she was here, she had been too drunk and tired to get a clear feel for the place. Now that she was sober, she had to admit Roen’s hideout was impressive. Walking through one of the side corridors, she discovered that this old missile base went a lot deeper underground than she realized.
She found Roen’s treasured ammo dump in the second silo, which was circular in shape, similar to the living room. However, in place of couches and a coffee table, this one was stocked to the brim with crates of what she presumed were weapons and ammunition. He wasn’t exaggerating when he said he had stockpiled enough for a nuclear winter. There were enough arms here to equip Ecuador. She cracked open a few crates. Tucked in beds of straw were caches of weapons from grenades to Browning M2 heavy machine guns to crossbows. In one crate, there were several hand-propelled rocket launchers and in another, a flamethrower. She even found a jousting lance on the floor.
“At least he’ll be ready i
f Normandy invades. I couldn’t shoot all this stuff in two lifetimes.”
Some of it looks older than the Cold War.
“Ammo is ammo.”
Old ammunition is dangerous. I would rather use bows and arrows. At least they will not explode in your face.
Jill was about to leave the room when something off to the side caught her eye. At first, it looked like a tall mini fridge. She frowned and upon closer inspection, whistled in disbelief.
“Is that what I think it is?”
A miniaturized Penetra scanner without a power source. One of the newer models the Genjix have been testing. I do not know how Roen acquired this. Command has been trying to get their hands on one of these for months now. Soon, the Genjix will have miniaturized it into a hand held. Then we will be in real trouble.
“He can be resourceful when he puts his mind to it,” she murmured, wiping the dust off the scanner and checking the interface. It was the first time she’d seen one of these scanners. The Genjix guarded them very closely.
Leave it. We have more pressing things to worry about.
Jill exited the ammo room and continued down the corridor to the next silo. This one was Roen’s doom-prepping storage. There must have been more than five thousand canned goods in here. She counted several hundred gallons of water, mounds of assorted dried fruit, and six lifetimes of ramen. In the corner were a dozen cases of scotch. To the right of that, she stumbled onto a pile of toilet paper twice as tall as she was.
Booze and toilet paper. At least he has his priorities straight.
“He’s nothing if not consistent. How much do you want to bet I find a couple crates of chocolate bars?”
It would be a bad bet to take.
The last silo was Roen’s office. A metal desk sat in the center, enclosed by a ring of shelves filled with computers. On the desk were a state-of-the-art computer and several pictures of Cameron. Jill picked up a picture of Cameron’s first birthday. She wiped off the dust, her fingers brushing his chubby face and that look of joyful bewilderment at the lone candle on a cake. Moments after that picture was taken, Cameron had grabbed the candle and burned his fingers. She chuckled. He was so much like his father, even at this young age.
Jill sat down at the desk and tried to log into his computer. First she tried the baby bear password and then several others that they shared, combining hers and Cameron’s information. She tried a few more passwords, such as her favorite phrase, Cameron’s first toy, and his old cat Meow Meow. When none worked, she leaned back and pondered. Roen wasn’t exactly a creative genius with passwords. He was sentimental and a creature of habit. He tended to rotate the same three over and over again with slight variations.
We should not waste time on this. Though if his birthday had worked, Command would have to reconsider allowing him into our network.
A second later, Jill’s face cracked a grin after she typed in “pretzels&beer” and got in. Jill checked her watch; six minutes to hack in. She beamed and mentally patted herself on the back.
He often mentioned that phrase. I never understood what it meant.
“It’s what we had for dinner on our first date. Pretzels and beer at the Cubs game.”
It is sweet but pathetic, like his entire life revolves around that day.
“It’s momentous event for him, right up there with the first day of football season. What can I say? He loves me.”
Jill paused. Roen did love her. He was an idiot and was terrible at showing it, but it dawned on her right there that his life really did revolve around her.
Yet not enough to stay when you begged him to.
“I blame his alien and his messed up view of how best to protect his family.”
Jill rummaged through his files. Being a computer nerd in his previous life, Roen was meticulous with his systems. While a slob in reality, his virtual cleanliness was unsurpassed. She was able to find important documents on his hard drive within seconds and soon had schematics of a dozen Genjix bases laid out before her. She was surprised at how thorough Roen was with his surveillance. His specialty rarely ventured toward the softer side of covert operations. The photos he had nabbed were first rate, though.
“My man is growing,” she murmured.
Better late than never.
“He’s still one of the best agents.”
That I concede and take a fair amount of credit for. When Sonya first trained him, he was two left feet and no brains. Now, he is a no-brained killer on par with Sonya.
“Could you get any more backhanded with your compliments?”
The day you forgive him, I might too.
“You’re sweet, Baji. You have a funny way of showing it, but you are.”
She pulled up his mission itinerary and was surprised to discover that he had been very busy. Within the past eighteen months, he had ventured to forty-two places all over the world. And by the looks of them – Kurdistan, Siberia, Mongolia, Libya, among others – none were vacation hotspots. For the next hour, Jill delved into what he had been up to for the past two years.
It began with Roen chasing clues to an obscure Genjix reference known as Phase III. There were some unexplainable trips that she found curious that had no notes attached. There was one trip where he flew from Istanbul, back to Virginia for two days, and then back out again to Istanbul. Jill furrowed her brow. It seemed he was funding his frequent flier miles with a savings account that she didn’t know about.
“That damn guy,” she growled. She shook her fist in the air. “Roen! You’re in so much trouble when I get my hands on you.”
You hide one from him too.
“That’s different. I use mine to buy shoes and pretty sundresses. A woman needs her own little spending account. He uses his to jet set around the world.”
It says here he bribed a courier to stow away on an Air India transport. Hardly jet setting.
“You’re supposed to be on my side.”
Damn you, Roen!
“Much better.”
On page nine of his expenditures, his account ran dry, and he subsidized his lifestyle by running guns on the black market.
Jill shook her head. “My husband is a felon.”
Quite ingenious. I did not think he had it in him.
“Look, he broke out of a Pakistani prison last December.”
That explains why he did not call Cameron on Christmas.
“Now I feel kind of bad for yelling at him about being a bad parent.”
The data began to paint a picture of several large industries purposely releasing large amounts of toxins, carbon, and different variants of methyl into the air. It was a conspiracy that he estimated had been occurring for the over fifty years. Jill could see the case he was building. The last entry was three months ago when he discovered the name of Phase III: Quasiform.
“What a busy bee,” Jill exclaimed, closing the documents and opening the next folder. She was startled to find dozens of photographs of her. Most of them were surveillance shots from afar on the Hill. Shockingly, some of them were her on assignment, including at the United Nations, at the London G8 conference, and at the assault on the Genjix naval yard in Newfoundland. Somehow, he always found time to shadow her missions. Then it dawned on her the lengths that he had gone to be there for her. Her eyes began to water.
I give him credit for who he is. He is many things, but he does love you and shows it in his own way.
The last folder was pictures of Cameron. Hundreds of them. As far as Jill could tell, Roen practically had Cameron’s life chronicled daily in pictures. That wasn’t unexpected. He had developed an interest in photography when his son was born. What was interesting, though, was that he had somehow snapped pictures of Cameron even after he had left. There were pictures of Cameron at preschool, playing at the park, even playing in their condo.
Sadly, those pictures stopped the day she sent Cameron to Louis and Lee Ann’s. Working for the senator and the Prophus had just gotten to be too much for a single mother w
ith a toddler. She had received a harsh phone call from him about sending Cameron away without his permission. He had received an even harsher retort from her. And then they hadn’t spoken for three months.
Later that night, Jill stood outside the missile silo entrance and stared at the stars. There were a lot more of them popping out here in the boonies than there were in the city. She missed stars. There was something magical about them as they filled the blackness of the universe. Quasar was somewhere up there, filled with billions of her people, waiting for Baji to come home.
Technically, you cannot see Quasar right now.
“You’re ruining my moment of serenity with facts. Stop it. You think Roen and Cameron can see these same stars?”
Cameron maybe. It is daytime where Roen is.
Jill looked to the west at the furthest star on the horizon. Then, with a tear falling down her face, she took out her phone and called Lee Ann.
Her mother’s voice was a welcome sound after tonight’s horror. “Hey, Jill, how’s my favorite daughter?”
“Still hanging in there,” she said, forcing a smile onto her face. Lee Ann had this crazy ability to always know how she felt even if they were halfway around the world. She couldn’t let her mother catch on. She didn’t want what could be their last conversation to be sad.
“Is everything alright in DC?” Lee Ann asked. “There was something in the news about gang violence on the streets tonight. You’re staying home, right?”
“Yes,” Jill said. Of course the Genjix would have the news blanketed with alibis before their assault tonight. The less her mother knew, the better. “How’s my little guy?” she asked.
“He eats as much as Louis and is already growing out of his old clothes. Louis and I are arguing about enrolling him in public or private school. There’s this wonderful magnet school here that teaches French Immersion. Of course, your father thinks it’s a waste...”
Jill didn’t hear the rest. These were decisions that she was supposed to make. She should be the one grousing about his growth spurts or worrying what schools he should attend. She stayed silent for most of the conversation, just listening to Lee Ann go on about Cameron. Finally, she asked for her son.