The Terminus experiment s-34

by Jonathan E Bond

  As it moved closer, she felt a sense of unreality, as well as something very close to shocked amusement. It was a dog. That much should have been obvious, but it was the distended head that had her confused. The thing was wired up, some tech contraption attached to its head. Then she realized that the creature was busy chasing its own tail. At any other time it might have been funny.

  Growling viciously, the animal moved like a dervish anxiously snapping at its tail with each spin. It wasn’t until it came a little closer that Sinunu realized that it had obviously caught its tail more than once. The tail was a ripped, bloody mess, mangled with each bite the dog delivered.

  She shuddered, suddenly afraid. What had they done to this animal to make it mutilate itself like that?

  Suddenly, the dog straightened, growling low in its throat, and sniffing in Sinunu’s direction. Moving silently, she slipped the crossbow off her back and was just starting to aim, when the dog barked once and began to charge her, a dirty brown streak covering the dusty ground in space-eating bounds.

  Moving as quickly as possible, she took aim, when a swirl of what she had mistaken for dust condensed directly in front of the animal. It was de Vries.

  Without a hitch, the dog changed its angle of attack and leapt for de Vries’ throat. As it reached the top of its arc, something seemed to sprout from its throat, a barbed cybertongue that swept in a right curve straight for de Vries’ head. With a graceful sidestep too fast for even Sinunu to follow, de Vries ducked the lashing tongue and snagged the dog out of mid-air, one-handed.

  A truncated whoff came from the animal as de Vries snapped the animal’s neck with ease.

  Dropping the still-twitching carcass to the ground. de Vries looked up at her and smiled slightly. Then he beckoned her with one hand.

  Sinunu thought about de Vries saying he was more powerful than any of them could imagine. Somehow, this display of that power made her feel less comfortable, not more.

  She swung over the top of the fence, then gently lowered herself to the ground. Checking her one-eighty as far as she could see, Sinunu detected no movement. She knew that there were all sorts of nasty surprises dotting the extent of this no man’s land, but hopefully the animal guard was the only one Sandman hadn’t been able to counteract.

  Satisfied that everything was as calm as it could be under the circumstances, she approached the wire mesh section of the fence, and waved Flak forward.

  Slinging the Vindicator over his shoulder, the big troll hunkered down at the fence and began quickly cutting. Within a second he had a hole big enough for him to squeeze through and plenty large enough for everybody else.

  Everybody moved through, Truxa giving Sinunu an anxious wink as she stepped lightly through.

  As Sinunu turned to look at de Vries again, her tacticom crackled. “Okay, kiddies,” came Sandman’s soft voice. “Now that we’ve paid admission to the circus, it’s time for the obstacle course.”

  Flak’s voice cut in. “Any more guard dogs?”

  “They’re everywhere, boss. Everywhere except here. This is the only section not on hot alert. I guess de Vries’ contact has a bit of pull. That dog seemed to be more for show than anything else.”

  With hand gestures, Flak lined everybody up. Sinunu in the lead, followed by Rachel. Then Truxa and Flak. Sinunu smiled a little to see that Flak didn’t even bother with de Vries. Evidently, he thought as she did. The vamp didn’t need any of them, and therefore, they didn’t need to bother themselves about him.

  “Sin Sister,” said Sandman, “you got to be precise about this, or you’re going to wind up dead, you scan? I’ve shut down everything I could, but I found a schematic for mods on this place, and not everything is hooked up to the system. So just do everything I say, and I should be able to lead you through this mess just fine. If something goes wrong, you’ll hear a small whine of trap doors opening. After that, you’re hosed.”

  Sinunu smiled inside her hood. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Sandy.”

  “Any time, Sin. All right, if the girl scoot troop is ready to roll, take eight steps forward from where you are right now.”

  Sinunu turned to Rachel, and leaned close. “Just do what I do, and step where I step, and keep as quiet as a mouse. Comprende?”

  Rachel looked back at her, those blue eyes wide with excitement, but she nodded.

  Sinunu turned back to the no man’s land, took a deep breath and started forward.

  For the next six minutes, the group tracked a convoluted course across the ground toward the second barrier. At one point, their meandering trek took them within just a few meters of the dead dog. Sinunu took one look at it, then turned away. Whoever had modified that dog deserved to die slowly and painfully.

  After what seemed like hours of being exposed and vulnerable, the group finally reached the opposite wall.

  “Now that was fun, wasn’t it, kids?”

  “All right, Sandman” came Flak’s voice. “Everybody’s a bit tense out here, so just get on with it.”

  “Gotcha. Well, the obstacle course is over. Now it’s time for the fun house. Flak, you’ll want to handle this. The fence is electrified, and its power source is in a closed circuit operated from a generator up near the front gate, so go with plan bravo.”

  Sinunu dug into the pack at her waist, and pulled out the thin cables with wire jaws at each end. As Flak moved past her, she tossed him the cables, which he snagged over his shoulder without looking.

  Sinunu immediately took up position watching their six o’clock. Truxa came up beside her. “Something’s very wrong here,” Truxa said.

  Sinunu didn’t take her eyes off their rear, but asked, “You mean aside from the obvious?”

  “Yes. This place is protected from magic just as heavily as it is from things mundane, but for all my effort, I’ve only been able to detect minimal life here. It looks more like a tomb than a research facility. The astral is so incredibly cloudy and polluted.”

  Sinunu felt the hackles on her neck stand high. “Toxics?”

  Truxa shook her head. “This would be a perfect place for them, but someone has gone to a great deal of trouble to keep anything like that out of here. There’s magical energy of incredible proportions being used here. Someone with phenomenal talent and a very refined style has been doing things I can’t even begin to guess at. This place is giving me the heebie-jeebies.”

  “What you sense,” came de Vries’ low whisper, startling both, of them, “is the process for creating a new breed of infected. From what I’ve been able to determine, it’s a process so complicated, and containing such a mixture of magic and technology, that there are only about five people in the entire world who could do it. And only two of them who could carry it out single-handedly. The man behind this place could easily be the most dangerous person on the entire planet.”

  Then he was gone again, leaving Sinunu to wonder how de Vries could possibly have heard their whispered conversation.

  “All right.” said Flak, “I’m in. Let’s roll.”

  “Okay. Loading bay number three is located fifty meters to your right. Everything is green, but time’s running out. So let’s hump it up.”

  Flak took point, as they had planned, and the team fanned out in an arrowhead formation. Sinunu on the left, Rachel just behind and to her right, and Truxa taking the far wing. De Vries shadowed Truxa, and somehow, Sinonu found his placement comforting.

  Moving in set stages, they covered the ground quickly, taking cover as best they could, until they reached the loading bay.

  The building was a low-stung dome, longer than it was wide, and stretched off into the darkness. The loading bays were at the end of a short paved road that circled around to the front of the building.

  The bay was empty and they swung up the short stairway, noting the dead cameras at the entrance. The double doors at the end of the bay were locked as Flak stepped up to them.

  “All right, this part is tricky,” came Sandman’s voice over
the taccicom. “if I unlock it, an auto alarm will sound. It’s retinal ID only, along with an eight-digit code.”

  “Damn,” said Flak. “Why didn’t you say something before?”

  “Take it easy, big guy. Just put your eye to the scanner. I couldn’t open it myself, but that didn’t stop me from changing the codes.”

  Flak grunted, and lowered his face to the scanner. There was a small beep, and a tiny panel near the door slid out to reveal a numbered keypad.

  “It’s coded for your birthday, then five-five.”

  Using his thumb nail, Flak entered the code, and for a moment nothing happened. Then the lock clicked as the panel slid back into place.

  “Like taking candy from a baby,” came Sandman’s voice.

  The team stepped into a long, dimly lit hallway. “All right,” Sandman said, “our target is three floors down. The elevator is out of the question. No way for me to reroute the programming without letting the whole place know we’re here. But the emergency stairs are just peachy.”

  They were just starting to move when de Vries appeared at Sinunu’s side. “I’ve got a bit of business to finish before we get there,” he told her. “I’ll meet you at the target.”

  Before she could say anything, de Vries dissolved into a cloud of mist that floated softly down a small vent.

  17

  Science has already discovered that the HMHVV virus, and its numerous variants, have wildly differing effects on different metatypes. The vampires of Ordo Maximus intend to isolate these and use them to create monsters of their own devising. Humans, elves, and orks retain normal intelligence after infection with HMHVV: dwarfs and trolls do not. If the Ordo can determine the reason some metatypes retain their mental faculties and others don’t, they can convey intelligence on infected dwarfs and trolls… or take it away front infected humans, elves, and orks, creating mindless feeding machines or powerful creatures with malign intelligence at their whim.

  –

  Martin de Vries, Shadows at Noon, posted to Shadowland BBS. 24 May 2057

  Pakow sat at the main console of the operating theater, cushioned by his overstuffed chair. Below him, framed by the octagonal-shaped, slanted plexiglass walls, stood the huge stainless steel containment chamber. Two of his assistants. both barely more than automatons, moved about their programmed assignments, filling the vats with the glowing blue fluid Doctor Wake had developed.

  Pakow wiped away a trickle of sweat that dripped from his hairline and ran down his forehead. Things were getting messy, and it was scaring him.

  He leaned down and spoke into a microphone that sprouted from the top of the console, “Number Two, set temperature at thirty-one point three, then exit.”

  Pakow watched as the misshapen creature stepped onto the engraved white and green pentagram that gridded the floor, shambled to the huge container, and did as it was told. Once the setting had been entered the thing that had once been a man made his way to the lift platform that would lower him out of the chamber, Pakow knew it would take him down into the decontamination section, where he hoped the small glitch in the decon program would go unnoticed. If it didn’t, the computer would realize that Number Two didn’t have any contaminants on him at all. And if that happened, the game would be up.

  Another trickle of sweat followed the first, and Pakow wiped at it in frustration, He was exhausted and frightened. He didn’t like all this intrigue wasn’t used to the stress it caused, and was seriously worried that he was going to crack before the night was over.

  “Number One, transfer the patient to the tank.”

  The other occupant of the room, an ork who had been one of the first metas to undergo the procedure, shook slightly then started in the wrong direction before stopping, turning, and heading over to a large hatch in the side of the theater. This ork had been part of a test group for an omega strain Pakow had designed, one intended to transform members of the various metatypes into vampires, without also conferring the disadvantages HMHVV usually bestowed on their metatype.

  Pakow shook his head. He hated using Number One. In fact, he hated everything about Number One. He shuddered as he thought back on the night he and Wake had finished the procedure on the poor creature.

  Instead of the fully intelligent and magically capable being they’d hoped to engineer, the ork had come off the table a drooling, homicidal thing devoid of any ability whatsoever They’d implanted the psychotropic chip, but the ork’s meta gene reacted with the virus in such a way that the chip seemed to have no effect.

  Only after they’d given it a frontal lobotomy did Number One settle down to where it was manageable. They had spent almost three hours inside the thing’s skull, selectively searing neurons until they’d found the right combination.

  However, whatever talents the ork might have had were also deleted, making it fit for nothing more than high-risk, decon-proof tasks that didn’t require any brain power. Still, tonight, that was exactly what Pakow needed. Even if things didn’t go quite as planned, there was no way Wake could learn anything from this creature, not even using his formidable magical skill. The only magical manifestation Number One showed was a profound resistance to anything magical. Something that Wake thought of as a success of sorts.

  As Number One opened the sliding hatch and clumsily lifted the body waiting there. Pakow turned to the large monitor at the front of the console. Everything was ready. The room showed no sign of contamination, and the vat itself was now filled with a simple saline solution instead of the DMSO-saturated liquid required for the process. The DMSO facilitated the subject tissue’s absorption of the chemicals necessary to start the conversion process.

  Number One placed the limp form into the vat, and stepped back.

  “Initiate sedation.”

  Number One shook again, but this time got the order right on the first try. A small needle attached to an articulated mechanical arm stretched out from the side of the vat and slid into the side of the patient’s neck. Pakow smiled. Anybody watching the trid replay would see that everything was going according to standard operating procedure. However, instead of sedating the patient, he was being injected with a chemical that would actually counteract most of the drugs he’d been given in the last twelve hours.

  Pakow sat back and took a deep breath. “Number One, exit.”

  It took Number One two tries to get to the lift, hut when he was safely gone, Pakow felt tension bleed our of his shoulders. His part in this was over for the moment. Now it was up to de Vries and whoever he had with him to do their part. Hopefully de Vries had found the package he’d left for him. Pakow had done everything within his power to prevent any slip-ups, but all this cloak and dagger was definitely out of his league. It was too late for regrets, but he couldn’t help fervently wishing he’d never heard of Oslo Wake or the Terminus Experiment.

  Pakow reached into his pocket and pulled out a small holopic of Shiva and their little girl, Kirstan. The reasons he was here in the first place. And the reasons he’d decided to turn on Wake.

  He shook his head and a grim smile touched the edges of his mouth.

  “I hope,” he whispered to the still image, “that I haven’t jeopardized your lives” He looked at Shiva’s dark-skinned face smiling up at him, feeling tears begin to well at the corners of his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I know I’ve let you down.”

  Shiva, a woman of vast heart and incredible strength of character would never have condoned what he’d been involved in here. Would never have understood the choices he’d been offered. He knew without even thinking about it that Shiva would rather have died than to see her husband a part of this abomination.

  Pakow shook his head quickly as if he could shake off the guilt he felt. Guilt at lying to her about where he was, guilt at doing something she would find reprehensible, guilt at not being with her. Guilt at not being man enough to protect her.

  He checked the clock on the console. De Vries had a fifteen-minute window and Pakow hoped that whoever de Vr
ies had decking the system was good enough to get past the intricate Matrix defenses Wake had paid so much to put in place.

  He leaned forward and tapped in an extension on the keyad next to the microphone base. After a second. Wake’s voice filtered out of the speaker. “What is it, Dr. Pakow?”

  “The subject is in the vat, and I’ve begun the process,” Pakow said. “I’m going to head down to the cafeteria and pick up some coffee. We won’t need you for another four hours. Also, I finished up the tests on Marco D’imato’s gene coding. He’s an anomaly, as far as I can tell, but you’re right about the deterioration progressing much faster than we expected. He’s on the verge of coming apart.”

  There was a long pause, and Pakow found himself sweating again.

  “All right, thank you,” came Wake’s voice. “I’m nearly finished with my preparations, except for a few final details. Keep me informed of the subject’s progress, and also keep me updated on the security matter we discussed earlier. I’ve noticed some excess magical activity in the area. Somebody gave us a quick scan about an hour ago. I think it was a follow-up on the astral scan we got this morning. Keep your head up.”

  “Yes.”

  Pakow disconnected, and then stood. He jacked into the system quickly, and delivered the program he’d put together just that morning. If things went well, it would give anyone snooping security the impression that all was as it should be here in the operating room. He jacked out again. As he looked down at the vat, which still remained unsealed, he saw movement.

  Surprised, Pakow leaned forward, his face only millimeters from the thick safety glass.

  Sure enough, the young man was moving. Slowly, sluggishly, trying to return to consciousness. Pakow was amazed. He would have thought this kind of activity impossible for at least another couple of hours.

  Pakow watched in complete fascination as the man pulled himself up over the lip of the vat, and then fell to the floor, hitting his head.

  Pakow winced at that, but there was nothing he could do. His program was running, and he had a five-second window to get himself out of the room before any anomalies in the trid would become obvious.