by John Keeble
Aini slumps back in his chair. He is shocked by the advances Galen has made. He is shocked by Galen having a working human-animal test for genetic memory. But, deep inside him, these world-changing developments pale against the shock of Galen pressing buttons at World Council level to get him released from agricultural servitude and moved to the center of great events.
Under his control, of course. But now Galen is disgraced and maybe even dead. He was my friend. He would want me to have his files.
Aini checks to make sure Galen's files have copied into his secure system in FedOz and then breaks the satellite connection.
He engages the laboratory auto-destruct from inside Galen's system – better Galen's name in the system if any of it survives – and shuts down. In two hours, after he has left the Center, the lab will be destroyed. And, with it, Galen's files. Unless there is a secure back-up somewhere.
The laboratory door, designed to keep people out, opens for Aini at the press of a button. He closes it and resets the lock from outside as the troopers watch in silence.
The subcommander marches him back to the drone. This time, the troopers' weapons are trained on him.
*
Jack pilots their escape drone low over a forest bordering the swollen Euphrates river in Mesopotamia, turns and makes three more passes from different directions. Everyone studies their view-screen quadrants except Galen, who refuses to cooperate or assist.
"I wish I had the technical skill to use the drone's survey equipment," Jack says. "Relying on what we can see is about as primitive as it gets. Anyone with a hand blaster could hit us at this altitude."
"It looks good," says Alice. "Let's land."
"Okay. We'll secure Galen in his seat. Aleksi, Aapelli and one of the troopers can stay in the drone with you this time – I'll take Max and the other trooper."
As soon as the drone touches the ground, Jack opens the door and he and Max leap out. The trooper, with his blaster ready, is close behind.
Jack treads forward carefully, heart beating fast, sweat running down his face. Just a few meters: far enough to see all around, close enough to retreat quickly. He slows his heart with his mind and considers. This could be the first safe place they have found in more than 12,000 kilometers. Or maybe it's another killing ground.
He sniffs the air for rotting bodies or fires – for the dead or the living. Either could kill them but the rot death virus is the most dangerous. The blaster in the trooper's hands is a vital precaution but it is Jack's senses and brain that will save or condemn them.
Three hundred meters away, the swollen Euphrates river carries a cargo of debris. From the air, on their survey of the area, it looked like plant debris from the tropical rainfall region to the north. Now, on the ground, he feels reassured: a vibrant and healthy river after dams in the subfederations of Turkey and Syria were destroyed in the 2020s terror attacks and climate-change monsoons flooded the desert regions.
Ahead, behind, and to Jack's left, the vegetation is close to the ground with unhindered visibility; but to the right, bushes and small trees are high enough to hide an army – or, with luck, their own fugitive drone. Just what we saw from the air. If anyone had been there with a smart rifle, we would probably be dead in drone wreckage now. So what's next?
"How does it look?" asks Alice who has come out to share the risks. Max is sniffing the air.
"So much for me telling you to stay safe in the drone," he grumbles, glad to see her, glad for her to help him make decisions that could mean life or death for them all.
"If you die, I die," she says simply and puts her hand through his arm as she moves closer. "I don't want to live without you."
"I'm more ambitious. I want to live a long life with you."
They scan the silent riverscape, the vegetation, and the edge of the denser growth of ground cover, bushes and trees. Jack's hopes rise with each second of seeing nothing to alarm them. This could be it. Somewhere to stay.
"Watch the river carefully," he says. He does not need to say why: the living will travel on it to find food and shelter, and the dead will carry contamination on the current. We should know the risks by now.
Jack feels Alice close to him. She has withdrawn her arm but her closeness is a comfort and reassurance. Max is still scenting the air. Danger? He seems happy enough.
They move on cautiously. It's so good to be this close to Alice. Each relying totally on the other again after their unprecedented row as they evacuated from the FedAntarctica refuge. He had wanted to leave Galen for the military to find and rescue, and she had fought tooth and nail to take him. Why was she so desperate to keep him? Aapelli is fine. We can handle the drone.
"This area looks okay," says Jack, optimistic but wary.
"Very okay," says Alice. "Best so far."
"Let's walk nearer the trees. Max is taking a lot of interest in something over there."
They take the blaster and leave the trooper guarding the drone's door, and pace warily toward the trees, Alice's hand on Max's head to keep him close.
"Galen is very unstable," says Jack. "Is he ill?"
"Maybe," she answers. "His experimental genetic upgrades seem to be affecting his microphysiology and emotional control. I noticed it by accident in tests after you broke his jaw."
"We need to keep an eye on that. If he is going to die, I want to be the one to help him do it."
They edge slowly forward, parallel to the river, on light spongy undergrowth – not too bad if we have to run for it – and into the lush strip of taller vegetation. The ground is getting firmer under the green covering. Maybe silt deposits. No tracks, nothing but natural growth. But a light foot would leave no trace on this ground. And Max's nose is down on the ground.
"This place could work for us," says Alice. "Firm ground. Good cover to hide us and the drone. I get a feeling that this area was cultivated at one time. Maybe that's what Max is scenting."
They both jump in alarm as Max streaks off towards a dense patch of trees and undergrowth. "Max! Come! Stay with us!" shouts Alice. They wait, eyes searching for danger, blaster at the ready, as Max stops and reluctantly returns to walk between them. "I wonder what's over there," she says, reaching down to touch Max.
"He doesn't normally leave us when we are scouting out a risky location," says Jack, choosing elliptical coding rather than stating the obvious.
"We could go a little nearer. We might see something," Alice says without enthusiasm.
"Maybe just a little," he replies. "Single file. Walk behind me. Keep your hand on Max's head so he doesn't get ahead of us."
Almost instantly, as they start along the direction of Max's interest, Jack's tension rises. It is nothing he can identify. Nothing he can see... nothing he can hear... nothing he can smell... but... something.
"Maybe we should turn back and do a few more survey runs in the drone," says Jack. "We can—."
But his suggestion is cut short and he stops dead as Max lifts his head and barks loudly before rushing into dense undergrowth fifty meters ahead. Almost instantly they hear screams and laughter.
"Children," says Alice, relief in her voice, as she starts towards the commotion.
But what about their parents? What about rot death? "Alice," Jack cautions. "Slowly. Let's be certain what we are walking into."
She slows, and they approach carefully. Jack hands her the blaster, safety catch on, and parts the foliage. They stare for a moment and then move forward. A dozen or so adult numan2s, mixed ages, all female, small and malnourished, are looking in alarm between them and Max's antics with four children. A timid dog, about Max's size, hides behind one of the women and peers around her at Max and the children. These women are more frightened than us.
Seconds later, the two troopers crash through the foliage from the direction of the drone, blasters ready and, in their hands, deadly.
"Wait!" shouts Jack as the numan2s cower. The troopers stop, stand at the ready. "Lower your weapons," he tells them. "One of you
return to protect the drone, the other stay here. Be calm and content. These people are terrified."
One of the troopers melts into the leaves and the other shoulders his blaster, relaxing but hyper-alert.
Alice holds up her hands, palms forward in a peace and friendship gesture, and the adult numan2s calm down and Max incites the children to get on with their game.
Jack and the trooper check the area while Alice talks quietly, reassuringly, to the numan2s and finally asks if they have seen anyone else. My clever Alice. What will I do if I lose her?
An hour later, Jack, Alice and the trooper walk slowly back to the drone. Max, frisky and grinning, is in his usual place between Alice and Jack but he keeps casting longing looks back towards the children.
"We must feed them, they're starving," says Alice. "There's plenty of vegetation for converting into food and a full stock of pmeat protein. We can print enough meals for them and us."
Jack assesses the effect of taking on the responsibility of feeding the numan2s. "Let's feed them for a few days, help them get back on their feet, and then decide what to do."
We might be killing them. We're only a step ahead of the spookpolice and the military. If they find us, they'll take us and massacre everyone else.
*
Commander Sandro is calmly ecstatic. The World Military Council has confirmed him as Military Commander, FedUK. Now he will rule and his puppet, White Death, will be the dumping ground for blame.
He can move out of this village hovel. Let White Death live here, and I can commandeer one of the historic numan buildings, like Windsorcastle Museum, for my quarters and my administration hub.
The only fly in his pmeat is the spread of the rot death virus. Can I keep it out of FedUK?
He sends a trooper to fetch White Death, reading and signing orders on his mediamat while he waits. Maybe I can get him to wear an electronic collar to tell him when I require him. It works on other servant animals.
"Ah, White Feather, I have good news for you," he says as White Death walks in. "The World Military Council has promoted you to a new post: Civil Commander, FedUK. I am appointed Military Commander, FedUK. You hold the senior figurehead appointment and I will take care of the details of running the federation."
"What is happening in numan2 communities around the country?" asks White Death. He wonders why Sandro is still living in this house. Why not move to Dorchester with its comfortable buildings and numan4 administrators?
"All is quiet in most areas," says Sandro. "My troopers have seen to that in your name as leader of the numan2s."
White Death turns away. I cannot stand any more of this. I must end it.
Sandro says sharply: "Stay! I have not finished with you."
*
Chapter 29
The Euphrates morning is bright, dry after the storms of the night, and Galen observes with satisfaction his captors' tension and frequent glances into the sky. They all expect a military drone. Good!
He hopes a military grab squad will rescue him: he can explain how he was kidnapped and forced into cooperation. He affects an air of calmness, though his tortured mind is not capable of peace anymore. Even his dreams torment him. I need to get back to my lab where I can adjust my DNA.
He is coming apart amid an uncaring group who should respect and obey him – Balen, his wife who owes him everything; Aleksi, who enjoyed his favor and patronage at the Center; the troopers that he allowed to join him in the escape... and Jack, of course. He thinks he is a self-made man but I made him and I can break him. They would all be dead without his leading their escape.
Galen sits on a chair outside the drone. His wrist is secured to an armrest. He can see the Euphrates flowing smoothly on its southeasterly trek towards its union with the Tigris and, eventually, the Gulf of FedArabia. But he cares nothing for that.
Jack and Alice are talking inside the drone. Max is lying here, by the drone's entrance, looking towards the numan2 camp. Galen cannot tell if the dickforsaken animal is enjoying the shade or watching him. Where do they think I can run to?
Aleksi and Aapeli are exploring near the river and the troopers are scouting deeper into the trees to find a place where the drone can hover in and hide.
For Galen, the conditions are right. Just Balen, Jack and me. This is my chance.
He calls out, loudly, modulating his tone to mask his anger and hostility. "Alice! Jack! I need to speak with you!"
Jack emerges, trailing Alice behind him. Max looks up, wagging his tail as he sees them.
"You want to talk to us?" says Jack.
He would kill me if Alice allowed it. I must play him like an inadequate subordinate. "Yes, thank you for agreeing to talk with me. I am aware of your violent inclinations towards me."
"What do you want?"
"I have a proposal," says Galen.
"What is it?"
"You will find it so strange that you may reject it as untrue. Is it possible for Balen – I apologize, Alice – to act as your advisor on technical numan matters?"
"She has kept you alive and with us, so far. She advises me on many things."
"Good. To survive," says Galen, "we need to cooperate. I cannot cooperate with you in my present condition. I need to change."
"You're right; what you say is unbelievable," says Jack. "You're wasting our time. We're not going to free you, if that's the change you would like."
"That is not the change," says Galen, looking at Alice to see how she is taking it. She must guess what is coming.
"Then what's the change?"
"Do you remember me when we first met – the night we made sure you met Alice in Abbotsford?"
"I remember."
"You were content with my presence then?"
"What're you getting at, Galen?"
"I want to reset my DNA to that time. It will cost me some of my superior intellect but it will solve the problem of you not trusting me. What do you think, Alice?"
Galen studies Alice while waiting for an answer. She would be unreadable to anyone else but I know what she is thinking. She is going for it!
Alice gives Jack a brief smile and says to Galen: "It's possible in theory, and you would be less dangerous. But we would need a laboratory as well as your DNA design from that time."
"You can fabricate enough alterations to the drone's medical unit to make it possible," Galen tells her, his quietly careful words hiding a desire to kill her. "I have my emergency DNA reset sample for you to copy."
Jack is listening to the exchange, stony-faced and tense.
"You could do it?" Jack asks Alice.
"In theory, yes," says Alice. "It would reinstate a healthy microphysiology and return his emotions and his reactions to more like the Galen you first met. He would remember everything that has happened, and he could retain the emotional responses to those events. The process is unstable under these circumstances. He could still want to kill me."
"Then why are we discussing it?" asks Jack. "Why did you insist we bring him with us?"
A tense silence is filled with the refugee children calling Max from the edge of the trees. Alice takes her eyes off Galen for long enough to raise a stern finger at Max and he flings himself on the ground.
A chance to divide Alice and Jack? "Why not tell Jack why you insist on keeping me with you, Balen?" Galen taunts, using her numan name with the pleasure of malice overcoming the wariness of clever tactics.
"Don't call me Balen!"
"Tell me what?" asks Jack, an edge in his voice.
*
The numan2 rebellion is dead. The dream of freedom from tyranny crushed. More than crushed. Under the military, death follows the slightest opposition. Anything more substantial, like an attack on a trooper, and everyone is killed within five kilometers. All in my name and it will get worse. When rival mobs realize they can manipulate the military they will kill troopers in territories they want cleared.
White Death feels more helpless than ever before. He has lost contro
l of everything. To the outside world, he is the all-powerful commander ordering the military to obliterate his people. In reality, he is a prisoner, not even able to decide what to eat. Every murder by the military, the scorn of history, in my name. That is how I shall be remembered. And I let them do it to me.
He thinks back to his last conversation with Sandro. He had asked for updated information about numan2 communities. "You can have a receiver in your room, feather head," said Commander Sandro with a laugh. "Then you will know what you are doing." Three subcommanders, casually listening to the conversation, laughed.
There was a time when I would have killed him. And a time when numans did not laugh. What has happened to me, to our race? "Thank you," he had said abruptly and walked away, his trooper shadow close behind.
Now, like every hour of every day, he watches the reports on the sole channel that he can receive: the Military News.
A conurbation named in a video report as Coventry is being cleared. It is to be improved, the deserted human slums torn down and replaced, the Cathedral of Our Holy Dick extended for a larger community of numan4 Divine Consciousness technopriests.
Sandro is destroying the numan2s, like the numan2s destroyed the human animals, and the human animals destroyed the nonhuman animals. He is not going to bring order and food to the masses. He is going to kill or dominate them. In my name. I have betrayed my people.
White Death freezes, his hands like a prayer to Father Dick. His stupidity was wanting so badly – not power, but life-saving order and food supplies for the people. Now he is neutralized; a puppet.
I cannot undo what the military has done but I can take one last action of honor. I can kill myself and take Sandro with me.
"Commander Sandro," he says impulsively into the mediamat comms link. "I wish to see you."
A voice he does not recognize answers him. "Commander Sandro is busy. I will inform you when you have been granted an appointment."