by Wesley Chu
“Same old, same old.”
“You meet anyone?”
Roen sighed and patted Antonio on the back. “Like I said, same old, same old. I’m off to bed. Have fun, virtual Don Juan. Make sure you’re actually talking to women, and not forty year-old perverts.”
“Don Juan, MD.”
Exhausted, Roen walked into his room and closed the door behind him. All he could think about was sleep. He took off his shirt and pants, and tossed them aside, leaving a trail of clothes on the floor. He plopped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. Antonio talked to more women in one day – staying in his room on the computer – than Roen did all night at a club.
What was Roen doing wrong? And it’s not even like Antonio really tries. Life was so unfair. I shouldn’t have flunked chemistry, he thought, I could have been a doctor. But then he remembered that he didn’t like the sight of blood. With a deep sigh, Roen turned over, and in seconds was snoring up a small storm.
CHAPTER THREE
THE CALL
Tao watched with interest as his new host milled about in his drunken state. After living through hundreds of lives, he had become quite adept at reading humans. He studied Roen’s mannerisms and behaviors, his driving habits, the tidiness of the bedroom, and his interaction with his roommate. He even made a mental note that Roen forgot to brush his teeth.
Waiting until his new host faded into a deep slumber, Tao made his move and suppressed his host’s consciousness, and then sat him up. Tao had never been that good at unconscious manipulation to begin with, and already exhausted from the night’s ordeal, his control was shaky. He maneuvered Roen like a minivan across the room to the desk and pawed at the football-shaped phone. It took a few tries, but Tao finally dialed the emergency line and waited the established fifteen rings before someone answered.
The other voice said, “Twenty-four-hour wake-up service. We wake up to wake you up. Can I help you?”
“Identification Tao.”
“Voice recognition does not match host Edward Blair.”
“Host has been terminated.”
“Base binary code required.”
“Binary code one, one, zero, zero, one, zero, one, one, zero, zero, zero, one.”
Silence.
“My condolences, Tao. Edward was a good man.”
“Thank you, Krys. Register the new host and patch me through to the Keeper.”
“Of course. Will it be long before you are active again?” Krys asked.
“I do not know. Depends on the host; you know how it is.”
“Aye, I do. Putting you through now. Good luck, Tao.”
“Thank you.”
Tao felt a sharp pang of regret as he waited. He dreaded this call. It marked the somber finality of losing Edward. He would have to make good on his previous host’s last wish soon. That was something he was not looking forward to either, but Kathy deserved better than to be kept in the dark.
A woman’s voice came on the line, “Hello, Tao.”
“Keeper.”
“I am sorry to hear the news. When Edward’s tracer stopped moving, we were concerned that you might have been lost to the Eternal Sea.”
“Edward made sure I had a chance to find a new host. Did Command receive the upload?”
“Affirmative.”
“Is it true?” Tao asked.
“This so-called P1 Penetra program does not seem to be a weapon. Our engineers are analyzing the blueprints now and believe it may be an advanced communication or surveillance array.”
Surveillance? With the amount of security surrounding the project, that hardly seemed accurate. The agent they had in the Genjix research division said the project had the highest priority and was carried out with the utmost secrecy. “Did you see the chemical list?” Tao asked.
“We have. It is a mystery. Our people are working on how these chemicals will correlate with such an array.”
Tao was silent for a few moments, deep in thought. Finally, he asked the question he was dreading. “Were we able to retrieve his body?”
“I am sorry.”
Tao cursed. Kathy would not be able to lay her husband to rest. He had hoped that it was a solace he could provide her. Now, she was robbed of even that. “Marc. He killed Edward. The operation was a double-cross. We need to lock him out of our systems.”
“Global security changes have already been initiated. Do not worry about Jeo, Tao. You have more pressing concerns. What is your new situation, and how long can we expect you out?”
Tao pulled out Roen’s wallet and recited the information on his driver’s license. “New host name: Roen Tan. Age: thirty-one. Height: five-nine. Weight: hmm... someone obviously lied on his license. I believe he is currently north of one hundred twenty kilos. I am still assessing the situation, but I believe I have my hands full with this one. Training time could be significant. Has both mental and physical issues which first will have to be resolved before he can be any use to us.”
“Pulling up his complete background now. Nothing overly unusual. No military record. No police record, slightly above average grades in high school, slightly below in college. Hay fever, minor asthma, and some Alzheimer in the family history. Interesting, one of his ancestors a few generations back was a Prophus. Seurot, who is no longer with us, lost during the 228 Massacre.”
“I knew Seurot. He was a good Quasing.”
The Keeper said, “His records dating back from grade school indicate low self-esteem and social isolation, but a higher than average intelligence and a history of obesity. Initiating host transfer protocols now. Roen Tan will no longer exist in a few minutes. Be sure to make first contact before he tries to pull up his Social Security number or other washed data. Tao, I am going to lay out your situation right now. From his files, this new host of yours is completely inadequate for our needs. Time is short. If he is not flexible for immediate orientation, we will send someone to dispose of him.”
“That should not be necessary,” Tao cut her off before she could continue. He tried to keep his voice calm, but inside, he fumed. Voluntary transitions were a despicable practice, regardless of how dire the situation was. He had never had to perform one before, and did not intend to start now. “I will attempt to expedite integration. I have already begun his case study...”
“No case studies or gentle awakenings. We cannot afford the luxury of a long honeymoon. I want results in weeks. He needs to be online and ready to work in months, understood?” she said.
“Keeper, please be realistic. He has no military experience. It takes at minimum two years to train an agent, and that is not including his current physical condition. Asking for results in months is an impossible deadline. You might as well send someone in tonight and shoot him.” Roen snorted and dropped the phone, mumbling something in his sleep. Tao temporarily lost control and almost fell over. Muttering under his breath, Tao picked up the phone again. “My apologies, Keeper, he is being uncooperative.”
There was a pause on the other end. “What if we sent you help to push the host along? There are a few unallocated agents recovering from combat. I can assign one to you.”
Tao hated receiving help with the training. He preferred to mold new hosts to his own exacting standards. However, under these circumstances, he had little choice in the matter. “Who is available?”
“Haewon’s second year. Eva’s fifth. Baji’s fourth. Vou’s ninth.”
“Baji’s fourth, is it Dania’s daughter?” he asked.
“I thought you would select her. She is in the Philippines right now. I will have her transferred over.”
“Yes, perfect. Thank you, Keeper.”
“Of course, Tao. Be safe, you were always one of our best.”
Roen twisted in his sleep and dropped the phone again. This time, Tao lost his balance and fell over. Near the end of his strength, he gave up and left the body where it lay. The mission, compounded with the strain of a new host, had pushed him to his limits.
Tao
needed to rest. For the next few days he would observe his host. Then at the right time, he would introduce himself to Roen Tan, though in reality, there was never a good time for these sorts of introductions.
Usually, he would spend months observing before making contact. But there was much to do and little time to do it. Roen’s life was now in Tao’s safekeeping. The Keeper had made the consequences perfectly clear. Tao did not intend to lose a second host in such a short period of time. As he retired for the night, he couldn’t help but wonder what lay ahead. Chances were he might have lost a generation staying in this host. But what if this Roen Tan could be another Edward, Zhu, or Temujin?
CHAPTER FOUR
THE HUNT
Sean Diamont studied his smartphone, tapping his foot to the beeps of the elevator as it raced up Willis Tower. While everyone else watched the changing numbers like lemmings, he didn’t bother. He knew exactly when to get off. To him, every moment in life was part of a chess game. One that he played four steps ahead of everyone else. Events could be measured in patterns and sequences. By recognizing and understanding how and when things happened, Sean found that he could live life very efficiently, exactly how Chiyva wished.
Sean first learned the will of his Holy One when Chiyva found him in the jungles of Vietnam. Back then, he was an undisciplined, delinquent youth whom his parents had shipped off to the army. He was so difficult to train that he was almost dishonorably discharged during boot camp. No one expected Sean to return from the war alive.
Chiyva found the eighteen year-old soldier during an intense firefight that left his platoon dead and Sean captured by the enemy. At first, the boy thought himself mad from captivity when his Holy One first spoke. Then, after many months, he realized God had sent an angel to watch over him. Chiyva taught him how to survive the prison camp, how to read the patterns in the guards’ patrols, and how to probe for weaknesses in the prison. Together, they hatched an escape plan. Sean wandered in the jungle for three weeks, surviving off the land, until he eventually made his way to friendly forces. Sean never questioned the Genjix again. He led the rescue party back to the prison camp and received a Congressional Medal of Honor, making him a war hero.
Once back in the States, Sean later obtained a law degree from Northwestern University. He was now a managing partner at one of the largest law firms in the country. Not bad for a young rebel who almost didn’t finish high school.
The elevator beeped for the fifty-fourth time and without waiting, Sean exited just as the doors opened. His eyes never left his smartphone as he walked five steps forward, twelve to the left through the glass doors, fifty-three to the right to his corner office. This was Chiyva’s way, efficiency without errors. This was how Sean escaped the prison, how he reached the pinnacle of society, and how he became one of the leading senior Genjix in the world.
Sean tore his gaze from his work long enough to wink at his secretary as she handed him a stack of documents, never slowing his pace as he proceeded into his office. She grabbed her notebook and followed. Sean hated pen and paper note-taking. It was slow, clumsy, and inaccurate. Meredith had never made the transition to a computer like the rest of civilization. However, her tenure and loyalty to him were indispensable. It would take years to train a new secretary to her level of knowledge of his work.
She also knew about the Genjix and the true nature of their mission. Sean had a level of trust with her that he could never risk replacing. Therefore, he resigned himself to her slow note-taking. He hung his jacket, sat in his chair, and logged onto his computer, listening to her updates as she rambled down the list.
“...and your 3 o’clock has been pushed back to Tuesday,” she was saying. “Your sister’s birthday is next week. I went ahead and ordered a bouquet of flowers and a card. Do you want to order new winter tires for her? It’s been a brutal winter. Your junior associate needs to meet to discuss the Burton merger due diligence. I blocked Wednesday at 10 o’clock for that. You have a meeting with the CEO of Engras Enterprise at 2 o’clock to discuss the government contract for military equipment. And Devin Watson called and requested you contact him at your convenience.”
Sean raised an eyebrow at the last name mentioned. He thought through his responses, giving each their proper due, before turning to Meredith and dictating in rapid succession as she scribbled in her notebook. “Ask the CEO of Engras – Nick, isn’t it? – to move our meeting to 7 o’clock over drinks at the Palmer House, and order a bottle of the ‘93 Cheval Blanc he likes. See if you can get some run-flat tires this time instead of that garbage you ordered two years ago. Also, block out the rest of my afternoon.” He hid his rising irritation as she frantically tried to keep up.
“Is there anything else?” she asked when she caught up.
“A cup of coffee in fifteen minutes.” And then he waved her off.
Sean waited until she closed the door behind her and then pushed a button under his desk. The room began to hum with a deep resonating modulation. The resonance would block any listening devices aimed toward his office. Sean was sure there were no Prophus spies working at the firm, but one could never be too careful. The humming increased in pitch until eventually, he heard nothing. Satisfied, Sean turned on his video phone and called Devin. After three rings, Devin’s face appeared on the screen.
“Brother Sean. Chiyva.”
“Father.”
Devin Watson was an elderly man with a full head of white hair and a long trimmed beard. His face was weathered and scarred from years of battle and conflict, but his eyes shined with wisdom and fanatical devotion. He was also the hemisphere’s senior Councilman and one of Sean’s few direct superiors. His Holy One, Zoras, was a dominant Genjix who had occupied some of the most powerful and influential individuals in history. And to the Genjix, that equated to rank and seniority.
“Did we receive a response from the mayor?” Devin lit a cigar and puffed on it.
“I’m afraid so.” Sean leaned toward the screen. “He can’t convince the city council or the state legislature to allow us to build an offshore platform on Lake Michigan, at least not one with our security requirements. Even with his influence, there are too many questions being raised about the general purpose, and our geological research scenario is being challenged by the environmentalists.”
Devin grimaced and took another puff. “This will hinder our manufacturing operations in the Midwest. You need to go back and remind the mayor who put him in office.”
Tell him the alternative.
“There may be another solution,” Sean suggested carefully. “The mayor has always been a friend and grateful for our contributions. He has offered, as an alternative, the use of land just east of Northerly Island.”
Devin frowned, took another puff of the cigar, and looked off the screen, presumably at a map. “Underwater?”
“Exactly, Father,” Sean continued. “We take the operation twenty meters underwater off the coast. The mayor has offered the option to build the facility there and connect it to the surface through underground tunnels. Airborne operations can occur at night, and the mayor has assured me that we will not require an audit from the municipal or state government. Basically, everything we need, just not as we had initially planned.”
“And the cost?” With Devin, it always came down to cost.
Sean pulled up a file on his computer and scanned through its contents. Satisfied, he turned back toward the screen and smiled. “I just sent you the summary information. The costs are well within the original parameters, maybe two to three per cent higher, due to the need to drill underwater, but not more than five. The short term costs will be higher because of the underwater construction, but we will save in the long run because we will not need to mask the facility from the public.”
“Excellent. I’ll review these numbers and get back to you. Good work, Sean. I’ll expect a project timeline this week. Make sure the critical path does not extend past eighteen months. I expect to go into mass production within eigh
teen months.”
“Of course, Father. Is there anything else?”
Devin took another deep puff. The smoke was so thick that it obscured the screen. Sean wondered if the old man was trying to kill himself with all those cigars. Or was it his Holy One?
Do not think sacrilegiously.
“Apologies, Chiyva, I meant no disrespect.”
“Yes.” Devin leaned closer to the screen. “What is the status with the break-in at the research base? How does it affect us?”
Sean shrugged. “They know of the program now. As to whether they know what it is designed for? I’m sure they will discern it in time. They were only able to infiltrate our archives. The stolen blueprints were from an earlier failed design; it is a complete dead end, but will occupy them for a year or two before they realize that. We lost one vessel to the Eternal Sea, Yrrika, and we gained a defector. They lost Edward Blair.”
“Blair, huh. They must have wanted the blueprints badly to send him. And Tao?”
“Escaped, but we have some strong leads on his new vessel. I have a briefing with the kill team momentarily, as a matter of fact.”
Devin scowled. “That’s too many resources to expend on a new vessel. You should be focusing your efforts on a Class A target like Haewon operating in your area. Tao’s nothing more than a thorn in the side.”
“It’s Tao,” Sean replied flatly. “Chiyva wills it, I obey.”
“As you should always obey, Sean.” Devin chuckled. “But don’t let Chiyva’s grudges dictate your priorities, Sean.”
“I am only the instrument of the Holy Ones,” Sean replied. “Haewon’s trail has grown cold anyway. She hasn’t been on radar since the Katrina cover-up.”
“Haewon should still be the priority if her vessel ever materializes, understand?”
“Of course, Father. The kill team has orders to hunt both.”
“Who is leading them?”
“Why, one of their own.”