BEYOND EXTINCTION

by John Keeble

  Okay, it will give me more time to plan.

  Two days later, the same voice breaks into the Military News and says: "You will see Commander Sandro now."

  Almost instantly, the day's guard walks into his room without asking and orders: "We go. Now."

  White Death has been waiting for this moment. He knows the routine from previous summonses to appear before Sandro. He even knows the blank-faced trooper. He does not move. He does not look away from the screen. He does nothing but listens to the trooper approach him and watch with his peripheral vision.

  "We go! Now!" says the trooper, much louder.

  White Death ignores him. Will he come closer?

  "Now!" shouts the trooper, ostentatiously switching off the blaster's safety control and fingering the trigger.

  White Death mocks his threat by reaching out and turning up the volume of the Military News report. "...200 troopers swept the village clean of rebels... under the new declaration of mercy and reconciliation by Commander White Death, the rebels' lives were spared. They have been taken to a military camp for re-education."

  The guard steps closer, letting go of the blaster with one hand to grab White Death's ear and haul him up.

  White Death cries in alarm, fear on his face. He rides up with the trooper's impressive strength... then, fingers rigid, jabs the trooper in the throat with lethal force and skill.

  The trooper staggers back, a death gurgle in his throat, and White Death seizes the blaster from his hand. His ear is ripped but he has the means to kill.

  He quietly slips towards Sandro's room, now the nerve center of a field headquarters built in the compound. Sandro's door is open. Perfect. White Death can hear him talking to another man.

  He steps through the door and pulls the trigger.

  "Ah, White Feather. We have been expecting you," says Commander Sandro. "I'm sorry. The blaster doesn't work. None of the guards' blasters work. You are far too valuable to risk an idiot trooper killing you. Please, have a seat and tell us how we can help you. This is our field headquarters doctor. Do you know him? Can he assist with your ear injury?"

  White Death is stunned. A seat instead of revenge and death. Instinctively, he resorts to a numan2 insult: "You have no honor, no family and no soul."

  "No one who knows me would say that," says Sandro casually. "They would never imagine I cared for anything but my military duty."

  "Commander!" interrupts the doctor.

  "Commander Doctor, please continue," says Sandro. "White Feather will not mind waiting."

  "This is a dangerous situation," the doctor says. "We have a possible case of rot death infection in isolation in the field hospital. If it is confirmed, we must destroy everything, including everyone the patient has met in the past seven days, and evacuate this area."

  "I commend you for your care. Be content: continue your investigation and keep me informed. It is confidential, our knowledge only, until I decide otherwise."

  "But we must warn—."

  "If it is confirmed! Not before. How long do you need?"

  "Three hours, maybe four."

  "Keep me informed."

  "But—."

  "You are dismissed." As the officer walks out, Sandro says to White Death, "You see the difficulties of command that I save you from? And you want to kill me."

  "Yes," says White Death viciously as he swings the inert blaster with all his strength. He hears with satisfaction the cracking of Sandro's skull, puts down the blaster and takes Sandro's pistol.

  He fires directly into Sandro's face and then turns the weapon on himself. For the people!

  *

  Aini is back at the Colchester military drone zone doing his best to look well and eager to travel to FedOz. Behind his facade, he is exhausted and ill. His head throbs. He cannot eat because he throws up almost immediately. He resists the temptation to look at his toes. He feels the pain; he knows they are turning black. Soon his fingers will show darkening. He is dying – he has maybe four days of life. That will be long enough to—.

  "Commander, you look ill," says the subcommander who escorted him to Galen's secret lab and delivered him to the FedOz sub-orbital. "Do you require a medic?"

  "No. It's just fatigue and hypersonic drone lag."

  The subcommander turns abruptly and marches off in a show of contempt and hostility.

  "If you believe that, you are stupid enough to believe anything," Aini says quietly. Perfect marching, little soldier, but try it again in a few days when your legs rot off.

  Aini settles himself into a chair. As departure lounges go, this is not bad. Comfortable chairs, water cooler, meals printer. Just the thought of food makes him feel queasy.

  He would like his wives with him and to see one last time his sons and daughters. None of that is possible. I've always preferred my work, anyway. And Balen, of course.

  The pain of his rotting toes pulls him back to his immediate situation. He casually squirts a painkiller into a vein in his hand – it would be better in my legs – but doubts it will work: the rot death virus is designed to heighten pain.

  He closes his eyes, controls his mind. He can get back to his laboratory in six hours: his drone to FedOz leaves in about 90 minutes; then a three-hour sub-orbital to Alice Springs drone port; and it will take maybe another 90 minutes to clear the arrival formalities and drive to his laboratory. Alice Springs. Home, wives, responsibilities, life.

  "That gives me enough time if Security doesn't detain me," he murmurs to himself. How can I reduce the risk of being stopped? He signals to the troopers watching him from the door and one walks over.

  "Sir?"

  "I need to talk to my Director in FedOz," he says, commanding, officer to newest recruit. "My communicator is in my checked baggage. Get me another for use now."

  "Not possible, sir. Orders." The trooper walks off. Dickawful imbecile.

  "You can use mine," says a new voice.

  Aini turns. It is another commander, apparently en route to FedOz on the same sub-orbital. The officer is holding out the latest satellite-link card communicator. If he has that kind of technology, he is much more than a commander.

  "Sir!" he acknowledges. "May Father Dick's blessings be upon you."

  In a blink, he is through to Director Ra. "Yes, Commander, you wish to speak with me?" Ra says. "You are due here in a few hours."

  "I apologize for disturbing you, Director, but I have files that you alone should see urgently."

  "So I understand. Military security has your portable data devices. Have you copied Commander Professor Galen's files into the Center's computer system or your own?"

  "No, Director. The files are on my portable devices. They must be delivered directly to you. I will join you as soon as I am respectable – I have been in very unsanitary environments and I do not wish to bring contamination into your office."

  "You will regret it if you do." The connection breaks.

  "Thank you, sir," says Aini to his benefactor as he hands back the card.

  Aini is aware of the officer moving away – who can blame him? I must smell like a human animal – and he sinks into his thoughts.

  If I can get to my laboratory, I will have a chance. I can survive.

  Words from one of Galen's secret reports to the World Council's inner controlling group pops into Aini's mind: "It is now possible, subject to further tests, to insert controllable memories in areas of DNA previously regarded as redundant."

  With Galen's breakthrough, I can animalize a numan4 and use it to rebuild myself with all my memories. I can live forever.

  He feels a sudden lurch in his stomach and his eyes fly wide open. Yes, he can reproduce the machine, but will he lose his soul? Will he gain eternal life, through rebuild after rebuild, at the cost of becoming soulless like a human animal? It's too late now – there is no other option except death. And I'm not letting that happen.

  He smiles, relaxes a shade. There is one other possibility. I can analyze the virus within mysel
f, write a DNA string to produce a killer enzyme, insert it into the file copy of my DNA, and use it to revert to my old self. How difficult can that be?

  *

  Chapter 30

  Jack watches Galen use all his malice-driven mental power to force Alice to reveal her secrets as the three of them lock in silent confrontation outside the drone.

  A bleakness edges his restrained anger and his long-held curiosity about Alice's hidden life. Me or Galen. Human or numan. If I find out her secrets, will the price be the destruction of our life together?

  He waits, lets the tension rise without repeating his demand for her to tell him why she protects Galen. Max furrows his brow with worry; he is always upset when he senses tension between Jack and Alice.

  "Why don't you tell him, Alice, why you must have me with you?" taunts Galen.

  He's not going to get away with bullying her. "You don't have to tell me anything," Jack reassures her.

  She quickly reaches out and squeezes his hand. "I want to tell you everything but not now – not with..." she nods at Galen "this thing listening."

  Jack takes back control of the situation with a terse: "What do you propose, Galen? We will listen and discuss it. This is your last chance: speak."

  He watches Galen's reactions. Confidence? Aggression? Concentration? Whatever it is, it does not last and the one-time Director deflates.

  "I am content with that," Galen says, his voice unsteady. "The experimental DNA upgrades are wrecking my body and my mind. I want to return my DNA to its status before I began using myself as a test animal."

  "What do you offer?" asks Jack, his questing mind content to leave critical analysis to his intensely-watchful Alice.

  "Offer?" asks Galen who, for the first time in Jack's experience, looks confused and uncertain.

  "How will allowing this process benefit us? What can you offer to reassure us that you will not be dangerous after the reversion?"

  "I... I will be more logical... my emotions will be controlled by numan genetic constraints. You can use wrist restraints after the retrograde until you are sure that I have changed."

  Jack waits but Galen has no more to say. He asks Alice: "Do you want to ask him anything?"

  "No. I have seen and heard enough. I can explain to you the process and the risks. This is all within my work knowledge."

  "It certainly is!" shouts Galen, his calmness gone and his emotions out of control. "Why don't you tell him that he is our test animal? Why don't you tell him—."

  Even Jack reels from the violence of Alice's reaction as she shouts back: "It's you who are the test animal! We built you. You are the seventh Galen rebuild to test memory editing. You..." But she cannot go on. Jack holds her without knowing if he is comforting her or stopping her killing Galen.

  "Let's go into the drone and cool off," he says calmly but, under the surface, he is stunned and relieved. I am not going to lose her. But what is she hiding?

  *

  Director Ra, head of the FedOz Genetics Research Center, is seething. He can barely sit still in his Director's chair behind his ebony desk precisely organized with files and documents.

  He jabs his fat forefinger angrily at his assistant. "Give our security technicians my full authorization to review Commander Aindrea's communications and any files he has loaded into his secure data storage."

  Is that enough? Can I do more? Yes!

  "And contact military security. Tell them I have reason to believe Commander Aindrea is acting against military security and must be investigated. Record this order and copy it to FedOz military HQ."

  That should bring down anything he might try.

  *

  Alice and Jack sit in their drone seats, knees touching as they lean in to each other, and Max rests his great head in their laps. The drone door is closed and this is the most privacy they have found since leaving the FedAntarctica refuge.

  "I wish Max could speak," says Jack. "I bet he would have more sense to pass on than most of the people we know."

  Alice laughs uneasily and jokes: "Don't tell Galen. He will probably design a way to upgrade Max so that he can discuss the quality of pmeat with us."

  An edgy lull slowly consumes them and even Max's nudging encouragement cannot budge the awkward rift. Eventually, Jack puts his hand on hers.

  "Why don't you tell me in your own way," he says.

  "There's so much." She sighs and grips his hand.

  "We have the time. The others are all busy."

  "Where shall I begin?" she asks.

  "Let's start with Galen. What did you mean when you said he was a Galen rebuild?"

  "We constructed this Galen as an experiment. The—."

  "Constructed him!" Is that possible?

  "Yes. The real Galen, the one you saw on the night we first met, built him from a numan4 reduced to animal status." She waits for Jack to respond but he just stares at her. "Galen is the kind of genius who always works on multiple projects. One project is never enough. One loyalty is never enough – he plays all the power elites: the World Council, the secret group that controls the World Council, the Military High Command. All of them. This project was concealed from them all until the moment the rebuild was tested in a work environment. That was when everything started going wrong."

  "Where is the real Galen?"

  "My guess is that he is safe somewhere with the military."

  "And this Galen? The one with us. What's his history?"

  He strokes her hand, reassuring her, until Max protests at the loss of attention by shoving his cold nose into their hands.

  Alice laughs affectionately at Max's protest. "Okay, you beast, we still love you." She returns her attention to Jack. "The area of genetic strings that appear to be redundant have always fascinated Galen. He started working on possibilities at an age when human children would think only of play. Two of his projects..."

  She pauses, apparently collecting her thoughts. Jack waits and watches. Is she deciding what story to tell me?

  "Two of his projects," she repeats, "concern using that redundant DNA area to encode memories. He was more successful encoding species' memories than specific, individual numan memories. He can never give up, so he built version after failed version of himself and encoded his own memories in each as a test."

  "What went wrong?" he asks.

  "Every failure was related to unstable emotional responses to the memories he encoded and this led to unpredictable actions. This rebuild, the one with us, was the most successful and Galen thought he had the answer."

  "But he hadn't," says Jack. Even so, the man's a genius.

  "He installed the rebuild in the Center in the middle of the night. The plan was to try the rebuild in a real-life situation where the depth of memories could be tested. In other words, to see if he could replace the real Galen and run the Center."

  This doesn't add up. "Where was the real Galen while his rebuild was running the Center?" Jack asks.

  "Jack! I'm doing my best to explain. Please trust me!"

  He puts his right arm around her and strokes Max's head with his left hand. "I do trust you," he says but, in his mind, there are too many gaps and contradictions.

  "You don't trust me but you will, eventually," she says. "The weakness of the real Galen – what humans call his Achilles heel – has always been arrogance. He has always been brilliant, light years ahead of the rest, but that made him believe he could never be wrong."

  "That I can certainly trust," he jokes, seeking a warmth to reassure her. Whatever the truth, whatever she says, I will never let her go. Unless she lies to me again.

  "The Galen-rebuild we have here was made in a laboratory provided by the military on Wight Island, east of Dorchester," she says. "The island was cleared of people and humans years ago and it is used for highly-secret research. The rot death virus weapons were developed there. Galen had a hand in that too."

  "A busy boy."

  "A key player. He got the military to drone the Galen-
rebuild to the Abbotsford Center to see if it could replace him for 48 hours. He left me to monitor and raise the alarm if anything went wrong."

  "I remember you spending nights at the Center."

  Unexpectedly, she begins laughing. "You thought I was enjoying time with Galen! You were jealous and I couldn't tell you. I was spending time with Galen – time fighting over every project he was forcing me to work on!"

  "That's a relief. So what happened with the rebuild?" asks Jack, hooked on the story.

  "Galen was too confident. He thought he could do whatever he wanted. The military thought differently. They had their own agenda. They droned him back to Wight Island as a prisoner. I was left with the rebuild, which had no idea that he was not the real Galen."

  "The real Galen was kept prisoner?"

  "So he claimed when I got a comms link to him. Later, Dalen told me that Galen had been appointed to the Military High Command. That's Galen: success from any defeat."

  Jack smiles at her, giving her time, caressing the bare skin of her neck and stroking Max to reassure him. That sounds plausible but something's still not right.

  "I wonder why the military let us escape from the Center?" he says, careful not to imply doubt in her. "That young officer gave us the drone. He could easily have taken you and the Galen rebuild."

  "You still don't trust me, do you?"

  "I need to understand, Alice!"

  "You want to know why the officer gave us the drone?" she snaps. "The real reason. Not Aleksi's reason that they were friends."

  "It would help."

  "I don't know," she says, tears in her eyes. "Dalen thought it was part of the usual military game-playing. The officer would not have released the drone on his own authority. And why was the drone there? We didn't use drones for the Center's research. They are too intrusive."

  Jack considers. "It could have been military games – or, maybe, military planning with Galen's connivance. But why?"

  "Anything is possible with Galen. A small conspiracy within the military, perhaps. Those halfwits could never keep up with Galen's games."

  They sit without speaking, time limping, tension growing again.