by James Axler
He had to exaggerate for clarity, but this time, didn’t sound as if he was burbling. He returned the cold pack to his mouth. He looked toward Domi, then nodded toward her. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” she answered. “Where is Durga?”
“He was going to the Kariba power station, the last time I talked to him. That was about an hour ago, before the winged freaks went nuts,” Thurpa replied.
“And what is at Kariba?” Nathan inquired.
“He was looking for a means to restore his health and strength,” Thurpa explained. “He’s heard that somewhere in this area is a redoubt, and given the lack of high-tech facilities, except when it comes to hydroelectric dams...”
“Well, he’s off by a bit if he’s going to Kariba,” Nathan said. “Did he unleash those winged things?”
Thurpa nodded. “He and the millennialists found a cloning facility where he was able to make them.”
“How could he do that? Those creatures are huge,” Grant said.
“Actually, studying some of Hera’s notes from when she was running the Tartarus vats in Greece, I was able to put something together on how she got rapidly aged drones,” Brigid interjected. Kane was glad to see her, hoping maybe she could come up with something. “These aren’t living creatures per se, They’re actually reprogrammed biomass.”
“Biomass?” Kane asked.
“It’s a blank slate set of material. Stem cells, actually, which do not have any programming from DNA. Thus, when they are mixed into another organism, they take on the attributes of the cellular tissue they are in contact with,” Brigid explained. “At one time, it was thought that stem cell research would provide the means of grafting new nerve tissue into people to help the paralyzed walk once more, or burn victims to grow new skin. Unfortunately, at the time, the religious dogma of certain political parties prevented stem cell research, stating that the sources of these cells were from aborted fetuses.”
Domi glared at Brigid. “Aborted? What?”
“Abortion was a means of ending a perilous or unwanted pregnancy, but that had nothing to do with the stem cell sources,” she answered.
Domi looked stunned at the concept of ending a pregnancy, but she came from an era where childbirth was a difficult thing unless one had access to great medical technology. Where she had been raised, most pregnancies were hit-or-miss, due to food and water shortages, exposure to radioactivity, or just plain injuries and hardship. It took her a moment to realize that Brigid was speaking of a time when billions of humans had teemed across the planet, breeding with abandon.
“So, the Annunaki have somehow found a way to grow and store masses of stem cells?” Grant inquired.
North spoke up now. “The growth and storage is relatively easy. The stem cells have very little need for nutrition and don’t have any aging factor to them. So a nutrient bath and a sealed set of canisters allows for storage of literally tons of biomass to grow anything from mindless troops to replacement body parts for an injured craft like Tiamat. All you need is the proper genetic code sequence injected into the material, and you can create a good duplicate for anything you need. It’ll look the same, move the same, but it won’t think the same, not without a proper program in its brain.”
“Like Erica’s SQUID technology,” Brigid mused.
North narrowed his eyes. “Oh...you’re on a first-name basis with her?”
Erica Van Sloane had been a part of the Cerberus group’s cadre of foes and allies of necessity since their first exile into the hell of the Deathlands. One of her inventions was an electronic webbing that sapped the will of whichever minions she wanted, and placed them under her unwavering control. Of course, this was an echo of similar devices, nodules in fact, that Enlil and the other Annunaki utilized to take command of the Nephilim, Enlil’s lobotomized version of the lower caste of the race, the Igigi.
The kongamato were strong enough and took enough bullets and cutting to kill that this made them even more worrisome. If they were under Durga’s mental command, then they could at least be contained by the Cerberus team taking out the Nagah prince. But now, unfettered by any control modules and still lashing out brutally, the winged mutants were a deadly force of nature, impossible to stop by anything other than straight-out genocide.
“We’re going to have a lot of work ahead if that’s right,” Grant mused.
“What do you mean, if?” Thurpa asked. “Those things tried to kill me.”
“It could have been a sacrifice play. Something to get you on our side,” Grant told him. He looked over to North. “Either to discredit this asshole or to sneak him a message, or maybe just to kill him if Durga doesn’t like him anymore.”
“Not too trustworthy, are we?” North asked.
“No, you aren’t,” Grant snapped at him. “And I’m sorry, Thurpa, but this is too damned convenient. You might not know that you’re bait in a trap, which is why I’m feeling sorry for you.”
“If I am, then to hell with Durga,” Thurpa responded.
Kane, Brigid and Domi were all observing him closely. With their sharp senses and observational skills, they were keeping watch for tells of lies. It would be difficult, considering the facial and skin structure of a Nagah male, but if anyone could make an accurate observation, it was going to be those three. However, even Grant, with all his years of police work as a magistrate in Cobaltville, was picking up a strong case of veracity on Thurpa’s part.
Even so, this could have been part of Durga’s plan. They were dealing with a cunning opponent, one who’d managed to wreck Hannah and Manticor’s chances of having a child that was theirs genetically.
Grant hated the pun, but Durga was a true snake in the grass, and no amount of duplicity would be too great for him.
But for now, Thurpa looked as if he could be trusted.
Kane offered his hand to the Nagah expatriate, helping him to his feet. “Welcome to the party, Thurpa,” he said. “I just hope for your sake that you’re really on our side.”
The Nagah looked at the dead kongamato around them. “I hope so, too.”
Chapter 12
The rest of the trek toward Kariba station was done in silence, but not in calm. The group had grown to seven in size, but the Cerberus quartet could trust only each other, though Nathan Longa had proved himself a good man.
Thurpa had been part of Durga’s rebellious cabal, a group that believed in “genetic purity” among the castes of the Nagah nation, and as such, even if he hadn’t committed murder here in Africa, he had been part of a bigoted agenda back in Garuda. He was damaged goods, not nearly so bad as North had been in the past, but he was still an unknown quantity. The four travelers from Cerberus, fortunately, had been on dozens of quests around the world, and while they generally tried to be cordial with those seeking to be friendly, they had quickly developed instincts as to who was dangerous and who wasn’t. Right now, Thurpa demonstrated enough loyalty and thankfulness for the rescue and first aid that he was sticking with them. He seemed to be more interested in the tree line and the skies above, where more kongamato might appear, than in looking for weaknesses among the group.
Whatever Durga had done, it had turned Thurpa into a convert.
If that lasted, Kane thought, then so much the better.
“Thurpa, you don’t seem to have much trouble throwing in with humans,” he began. “So why join a bigot like Durga?”
Brigid tossed Kane a glare. Things had been quiet so far, and now that they were just a few hundred yards from the Kariba power station, she presumed that he was going to cause trouble. Needless trouble, on the doorstep of the very enemy they were stalking.
“He didn’t come off as a bigot. His original message, the one that made me align with him, was of truth to oneself,” Thurpa responded. “The Nagah are a constructed species. Mere humans with add
itions grafted to our genetic structure. And a lot of the inclusiveness in Nagah society seems to be along the lines of pounding square pegs into round holes. Why should humans have to literally change their skin to fit in with us? It seemed the only way to get high status in Garuda was to give up normal humanity and mess with your genetic structure. And much of the time, what came out? Piebald freaks who were mosaics of human and cobra, or even worse, Nagah who were forced by a cruel genetic joke to live in a wheelchair or drag themselves along on their elbows because their legs were taken from them.”
Kane remembered how easily Manticor was able to adapt to life in a wheelchair after his legs had been crippled in battle with Durga’s minions. Because of the nature of the cobra baths, sometimes the changes from human to Nagah did result in people who were, for all intents and purposes, paraplegic or quadriplegic, their legs and even their arms fused together or to their torsos, turning them into living, limbless snake analogs.
“Sure, Matron Yun alleviated the stigma of their disability, calling them the chosen of the great cobra, but it still wouldn’t have happened if people weren’t so willing to trade one identity for a little bit of status and equality,” Thurpa returned. “I have nothing against humans, or even Nagah descended from humans. But it’s a dangerous game, made even more so by the severe losses suffered upon Durga’s open revolt. The technology used to make these changes is finite, and growing ever more fallible with each change. Sooner or later, someone going into the cobra baths is going to come out dead.”
“So that helps you to ignore the terrorism for this cause?” Kane asked.
“Not all of his followers agree with the violence, and Durga assured us that it was a fanatic few responsible for those attacks,” Thurpa answered. “Now, though...we’re working with a militia of Mashona. And they look pretty ruthless. And Magruder... Granted, I felt good being on their side, because they were dangerous.”
“Magruder. He’s with the consortium?” Brigid inquired.
Thurpa nodded. “We’re in a dangerous place, Miss Baptiste. I’d rather have the most dangerous people on my side, thank you very much.”
“Hence your throwing in with us so quickly,” Grant said. “We tore the hell out of that pack of kongas on your ass.”
Thurpa smiled. “You know it.”
“Makes sense enough to me,” Grant replied. “Just remember, if we could do that to a bunch of mutie beasts, what we could do to a lone asshole or two.”
The cobra man chuckled, trying to cover for a sudden attack of nerves, but the rapid flutter of his laugh was sign enough that Grant’s warning had been noted. “I am not stupid.”
“Good.” Grant placed a big, reassuring hand on the Nagah’s shoulder.
“So, what is our plan to get in there, now that you’re done marking your territory around the newbie?” North asked.
Kane and Grant both gave the archaeologist a hairy eyeball for that crack, but Kane at least felt he should answer. “What we are going to do is to leave Nathan and that stick back here. Grant, I love you like a brother, but when it comes to sneaking...”
“I make a better babysitter for the guy with the magic staff,” Grant returned. He gave Kane his one percent salute. “You and Domi will go on ahead.”
“We call it clear, you come up,” Domi added. “Plus, be good if you had our backs.”
She nodded toward the obscenely big rifle that the huge ex-magistrate carried slung across his back. Normally, the big .50-caliber Barrett was hardly the kind of weapon that an exploratory group would bring with them, but Grant was aware of mutant beasts on the rampage in Africa, and the same monstrous rifle that could kill such a beast with one shot was also pretty good at dealing with regular malcontents, such as millennialists, bandits and militia. Even so, of late, Grant had been also used to dealing with creatures that required even more effort to kill than normal, human-sized foe
“I never would have thought of that,” he said with a wink. “I have your back, always.”
Kane suppressed a chuckle, and he and Domi split up and advanced toward the Kariba station. The area had been cleared from the fence perimeter to a hundred yards out, but now that the sun had gone down, there was enough knee-high grass and ground clutter in the forms of shrubs to give the skillful pair a good path of approach. Granted, things would be difficult, as the Millennium Consortium had night-vision goggles. But with the lights on within the compound, Kane and Domi would see any observers at the fence backlit, and anyone farther in would have his light-amplification devices overwhelmed by the lamps. There were no towers, unlike at the Victoria Falls station, at least none they could readily see.
“Grant,” Kane muttered into his Commtact.
“Checking the roof. Camp lighting is pretty harsh, even through my daylight scope,” Grant replied.
“Keep us appraised,” he returned.
“Got it,” Grant responded.
With that, Kane went silent. His ears were peeled, as were his eyes. For now, he moved along in a crouch, walking smoothly, quietly, heel to toe so as not to stumble if he stepped on uneven ground, and to feel ahead for any twigs or trip wires that would give him away. Domi had her own catlike movements, and the pair of them advanced relatively quickly across the field, looking toward the perimeter only occasionally for signs of someone watching them, while concentrating on avoiding booby traps or alarm systems while crossing the partially cleared field.
All the while they traversed the darkened grounds, they were keenly aware that every moment their friends sat still, they were targets for whatever force wanted to ambush them, be it the Mashona militia Thurpa had told them of, or the kongamato. It was a fine edge between rushing into Kariba half-blind, or being alert and certain of the presence of danger within the compound. No matter if Thurpa had been betrayed or simply had the bad luck to be present when Durga lost control of the cloned creatures, the odds of there being something deadly inside the Harare station were high. So far they’d been lucky to avoid any security measures belonging to either Harare or to Durga.
Kane and Domi finally met at the perimeter fence, and Kane signaled to the others to move up.
The field was clear of trouble, and the group once more assembled. They found the gate, and it was open.
“Come into my parlor, said the cobra to the flies,” Brigid murmured.
Thurpa cast a guilty glance toward her.
“Durga. Not you,” she amended.
“No, I was just worried if you’re going to shoot me first if something goes wrong,” Thurpa said. “Maybe I should just take point.”
“Go eat worms in the corner on your own time,” Brigid replied. “Besides, you’ve got nothing on these two.” She nodded toward Kane and Domi.
“No scat smell,” Domi noted. “Things aren’t nesting here.”
“No signs of bodies or blood spilled, so there’s no kongamato present,” Kane mused. “But Durga’s people could have swept or cleaned up after shooting the Harare staff in the head.”
Nathan frowned. “I don’t know how many worked at this particular facility. I wish I could help.”
“Chances are the numbers weren’t much different from those in Zambia,” North interjected. “And according to the duty roster I accessed...”
“You read their roster? When?” Brigid asked.
“I went into their computer check-in,” North said. He tapped his skull. “I can wirelessly access those things.”
“That can be done?” Grant asked.
“It was called Wi-Fi. It was a popular trend for notebook computers starting in 1999,” Brigid responded. “Before it became part of the public consciousness, it was making inroads to military and business usage. We have some of that technology back at the redoubt, and I’m sure that some of it found its way to Africa either before or just after.”
“We’re not a dese
rt wasteland here,” Nathan told her. “The thing is, it takes a lot of precious metals to assemble that kind of circuitry, so it’s still fairly rare, but we have it. Two centuries of development, mining and such, and not wasted frivolously in coffeehouses.”
“I never thought that,” Brigid said. “You’ve done a lot better than most areas of this world. Especially without a reunification program.”
“Enough jawing,” North muttered. “There’s not a lick of computer access in there, and I’m even going outside of wireless connectivity.”
Brigid noted that the archaeologist was standing next to one of the floodlights that illuminated the courtyard. “You’re hacking into the circuits that power the lights out here.”
He nodded. “Back in the twentieth century, there were ideas of using the electrical system of buildings to convey computer information. My nanites are reading through the back door of the computer power systems.” He glared toward Kane. “Or don’t you trust me?”
Kane shrugged. “I believe you. But Durga and the Millennium Consortium don’t really do a lot of sneaking and peeking electronically. They’re more come in, trickl folks, or just plain shoot who they can’t snow.”
Nathan blinked. “Snow?”
“Fool,” Kane corrected.
“We don’t get a lot of fluffy white stuff here in Harare,” Nathan said with a chuckle, “so we don’t use the word much.”
“Made enough noise. Get inside,” Domi muttered, opening the door to one of the buildings. She had her .45 in hand, her ruby-red eyes peeled, picking up light much better than a nonalbino. Normally, bright daylight would have been a terror to her, if not for her melaninless skin, but she’d turned her sensitive eyes into an asset. She dealt with the pain of a hot sun searing her untannable flesh. She survived.
And with those photosensitive eyes, she was able to scan shadows deeper than her friends could. She seemed as if she were suffering from tics as her gaze was drawn toward each sound. It may have seemed paranoid, but that level of alertness had kept her and her companions alive for years.