The clinical tone of Cassidy’s answer was too much for Damon to bear. He punched the android’s jaw. “Quit talking about him like that. Dylan’s not a freakin’ lab rat.”
With the imprint of his knuckles still visible on her jaw, Cassidy said, “I am sorry. I did not intend to upset you.”
Damon lowered his head. “Why did you do it, Cass? He’s only going to get worse. Keeping him alive just prolongs his suffering.”
“Did you not know? Dylan’s an outlier like Billy Hearns.”
“Come again?”
“The order in which his first four gutations appeared makes him unique. Just like Billy.”
“So, what? Extending either of their lives will accomplish nothing. All it does is assure they’ll both die after years of inescapable pain.” Damon looked up at the camera, aiming his next comment at the Brit. “You’re deluding yourself if you think otherwise.”
“Not necessarily,” Cassidy said. “The progression of JS will happen slowly for both of them, and their symptoms will not be as severe as the majority of jakalis’. They will live longer and enjoy quality of life for far longer. Jakalis with similar attributes have lived well into their mid-twenties.”
Shaking his head, Damon said, “I can’t believe you got suckered into bleeding heart drivel like that. Just because they live longer with less pain doesn’t mean they should be saved. They’ll eventually turn into animals, Cass. They’ll still hurt every human they get their hands on.”
“If it comes to that, steps will be taken to end their suffering before they hurt others.”
Damon squeezed his fists. “What gives you the right, gives Beacon the right, to determine when my son’s suffering should end? His mother and I, alone, had that right. You took it away.”
“We did it to save lives. To cure JS. Possibly cure Dylan or dilute his symptoms so much he might never turn into a jakali, especially now that Billy has been rescued.”
Damon fired another punch at Cassidy’s face. This one she blocked with a chopping blow of her forearm. The force of the chop knocked Damon off the chair. Lying on the floor, he looked up at her. “I didn’t think an android could be insane but I was wrong. You’re out of your artificial mind.”
The voice of the British woman echoed from the intercom above. “On the contrary, Major, Cassidy is quite sane. Indeed, she comprehends the futility of New Atlantia’s policies toward gutants and jakalis far better than you.”
Massaging his arm, Damon stood and stared at the camera. “Spare me your propaganda. You’re terrorists. Vigilantes. There’s nothing noble about you.”
“Call us what you will,” said the Brit, “but we’re not the ones putting children to death and sterilizing innocents, nor conscripting didgee women to serve as indentured surrogates for evvies.”
Damon rolled his eyes. This is a waste of time. “What’s your plan, lady? Fill my head with your lies hoping I’ll see the light?” He turned to Cassidy. “And you, pulling on my heart, telling me Dylan is alive. Did you think it would soften me up, make me sympathetic to your twisted cause? Well, you can forget it.”
Stomping around the room, Damon continued to rail. “You and your band of rats think you have some kind of corner on virtue. Well, you don’t! People in New Atlantia care just as much about their families, their friends, their neighbors. We don’t throw gutants into colonies or ship them off to remote islands. They live among us. We work with them, we marry them. They are just as much a part of our society as people from other castes.”
As he stopped to gather his breath, the Brit said, “Until they have one too many gutations. Then, they’re implanted with a tracking chip and sterilized, or heaven forbid, their gutations indicate Jakali Syndrome and they’re put to death. Gutants aren’t equals in New Atlantia. You’re dishonest to imply otherwise.”
“Me, dishonest? You should look at a mirror, lady.” Damon looked back and forth between the camera and Cassidy. “Both of you.”
Cassidy started to speak but Damon cut her off. “There’s no point in talking any further. Whatever help you wanted from me, forget it. You’re not going to buy my help by dangling Dylan over my head. Just send in your Makoas and let’s get this over with.”
“Very well,” said the Brit. “Cassidy, say farewell to Maj. Spiers. I’ll send for the Makoas.”
Cassidy nodded and took a step toward Damon. “I will do everything I can to help Dylan. If we fail to cure him, I will make sure he does not suffer.”
Damon said nothing in reply. Cassidy turned and left. As soon as the door shut behind her, Damon looked up at the camera. “You still there, lady?”
“I am.”
“I won’t put up a fight. Just tell your Makoas to make it quick.”
As he awaited his executioners, Damon closed his eyes and let his mind wander through memories of Alicia and Dylan, focusing on the greatest joys they had brought to his life. A sense of calm washed through his body, easing the weariness, bitterness and sorrow that had overwhelmed him during his captivity. Hovering in that serene state, Cassidy’s last words wedged their way into his consciousness. “I will do everything I can to help Dylan.” The thought triggered a pang of regret.
He’s still alive, the pang reminded Damon. Will you do everything you can to help him? Forget Cassidy. Forget Beacon. This is about you and Dylan. Will you leave him in their hands? Will you abandon him?
The voice that gouged these questions into Damon’s soul was none other than Alicia’s. Think of Dylan, not yourself. Think not of what has passed but of what may lie ahead. Damon shook his head as if trying to cast off the trick played by his conscience. But Alicia’s voice continued to push him. If I said to you there is a one percent chance of saving Dylan, would you take those odds? Even if it meant giving your own life? Don’t waste that one percent dying in this cement box. Waste it saving our son.
The creak of the door silenced Alicia’s voice in Damon’s mind. His head snapped up. A shadow from the doorway spread across the floor. Damon fell to his knees. Tears were in his eyes as he answered his conscience. “Forgive me, Alicia, I can’t do it.”
As the shadow moved deeper into the room, Damon gritted his teeth and prepared for the end. But then came the tap of footsteps, too light to be those of a Makoa. He looked up and his jaw dropped.
The woman could not have been more than five feet tall. As thin as a malnourished child, her hair was gray, her skin as wrinkled as a withered raisin. Yet, her eyes shined with an impossible shade of purple. Damon couldn’t get over the compassionate smile etched on her face as she approached him.
“You may call me Hoot.”
The tenor of her voice was inexplicable to Damon. How can such forceful tones emanate from one so frail? And why is she smiling? Glaring at her, he said, “Where are the Makoas? I told you I’m done talking.”
“I’m not going to execute you, Major. You called my bluff. I want your cooperation, not your death.”
“Ain’t happening. If you’re not going to kill me, then you might as well hand me over to the Carapach police. They’ll probably do the job for you. And there is zero chance I’m helping you or any of your Beacon rat friends.”
Hoot sat on one of the chairs. “Do you realize your failure to prevent Billy Hearns’ rescue will add years to Dylan’s life?”
“You don’t give up, do you?”
Damon glared at her as her expression morphed from a compassionate friend into a sober adversary.
“No, Major, I don’t. Does the name Dr. Dyan Mugabe mean anything to you?”
A cascade of historical snippets shuffled through Damon’s mind. “Mugabe? Disgraced geneticist. Executed for conducting illegal genetic research. What about her?”
“She saved my life.”
“Good for you. What’s your point?”
“The research for which she was executed focused on an experimental therapy called—”
Damon interrupted. “The GODD chip. Yes, I remember. Again, what’s your point?”
“I am one of the gutants Dr. Mugabe treated with the chip, some twenty-five years ago.”
She must have noticed the quizzical look on Damon’s face, for she said, “Yes, I know I look as if I’m ninety instead of thirty-six — and I feel it too — but I’ve lived almost twice as long as gutants with as many gutations as I had as an eleven-year-old. The chip repaired all but a few. And I owe it all to Dr. Mugabe and her remarkable invention.”
Damon frowned as his mind drifted back to Hoot’s earlier quip about his failure to prevent Billy Hearns’ rescue. She had said his failure would add years to Dylan’s life. Damon then recalled something Cassidy had said. Dylan’s an outlier like Billy Hearns. He stared at Hoot’s violet eyes and another conversation passed through his mind. The discussion with Beauregard Jackson about Beacon’s potential motivation for rescuing Billy…about his violet eyes being linked to slower development of JS, making him an excellent candidate for research of a cure. Damon mumbled, “But Dylan doesn’t have purple eyes. His were…his are…blue.”
“You forget your genetics, Major. Multiple genes play a role in determining eye color. And not all synthetic genes maintain their trait dominance over generations of breeding, meaning not all people with VE011 in their DNA have violet eyes.
“Somewhere in your family tree, or your wife’s, there was an embryo designed with violet eyes. And, over generations, that gene passed onto Dylan. However, other eye color genes in his DNA expressed trait dominance, making his eyes blue. A rather dark shade of blue.”
Damon shook his head. “I don’t understand. What are you saying, then? You saved my son because he has dark blue eyes?”
“We saved your son because he has a right to live. Because he has a right to be cured.”
“Did you put your GODD chip in him? Is that it?” Damon asked. But even as the question passed through his lips, he realized he was wrong. Cassidy said because Billy had been saved, it would help Dylan. “Billy has the chip. Your GODD chip is in Billy.”
Yes, that’s it, Damon thought. He recalled Jackson noting the gutation in Billy that had been repaired. He has the chip! That’s why Beacon wanted him so bad! And now they want my help. And this shriveled woman’s using Dylan to get what she wants. Help us and we’ll help your son.
“You’re despicable,” he said.
Hoot waved her hands as if pushing away an unwanted gift. “No, Major, no. You’re making too many leaps. It’s not like that at all.”
Damon stared into her glowing eyes. “Then, what is it like?”
Before Hoot could answer, Cassidy pushed through the door. “Incoming gliders! We have to go!”
CHAPTER 17: GUT WRENCH
Beacon holding cell
Cannon Ball, North Dakota, Carapach
The force with which the diminutive woman pulled Damon out of the containment chamber belied her small stature. They ran up a set of stairs, following Cassidy. Hoot barely broke stride as she crashed through the screen door at the back of the house. She stumbled and fell onto the hardpan outside. Damon picked her up at the same time Cassidy and two Makoas converged on them.
Cassidy clasped her hand on Damon’s shoulder. “Go. Take her. We will cover you.”
She pointed toward the night sky. Damon needed no explanation. He could hear the gliders. He pulled Hoot to her feet, but he couldn’t find it in himself to run. This was a chance to redeem himself. Cassidy grabbed him as the first of the glider lasers cut across the ground. “Go! Save Dylan.”
Her arm blazed a throbbing red. She whirled and fired a scorching flame into the night sky. The Makoas used laser rifles to do the same. The air was so thick with heat Damon found it hard to breathe. An explosion sent him sprawling. By the time he came to his senses, the house was an inferno. Looking around, he saw scattered piles of flaming debris.
Panic raced through Damon. In the distance, he saw the flash of laser rifles and several shadowy figures crawling on the ground. Someone gripped him by the arm. He turned to see a charred Cassidy staring down at him. “Get up! Follow me!” Crooked in her other arm was the sooty and unconscious Hoot.
Damon scrambled to his feet and pushed Cassidy away. “No. I’m still NASF. Give yourself up and I will—”
Another explosion rocked the ground nearby. Ducking with his hands covering his head, he saw Cassidy run away. He followed after her. Along the way, he realized much of the burning debris scattered across the street comprised pieces of the gliders that had fired upon them. Damon collided into something and hit the ground with a heavy thud. Tumbling onto his back, he saw the source of the collision…the mangled torso of one of the Makoas.
Amid the bedlam, Damon pieced together NASF’s strategy. They were luring anyone fleeing into a kill zone. At the same time, he heard Cassidy yell, “Disperse! Get away from each other.”
Given the laser rifle flashes at the edge of the neighborhood, it wouldn’t be long before the approaching attackers zeroed in on the fleers’ heat signatures. Cassidy was at least fifty yards ahead of Damon when he shouted, “Give yourself up before—”
The explosion was enormous. Damon felt it pass through his chest like a crashing wave. Around him, the neighborhood houses disintegrated and the sun seemed to rise in the thick of night. As his mind faded into darkness, Damon felt the sensation of being picked up. In the murky edge of his consciousness, he heard Cassidy yell something about Thunder Bay.
Palace of Prefect Munoz
Minneapolis, Lakelands Province, New Atlantia
The audience chamber echoed with Prefect Munoz’ raised voice. “They escaped? Again?”
Jordyn stood at attention in front of the pacing, exasperated prefect. She reassured Munoz the situation was still in hand. “We are actively tracking them. Right now, they are headed south, presumably seeking succor, but there is evidence that suggests their ultimate destination lies in the Northlands.”
“So you say!” Munoz bellowed. “Meanwhile, the Carapach are up my ass! They know we violated their borders. Not once, but twice. These were supposed to be stealth missions, Counselor.”
“I understand that, Your Eminence. However, there were unexpected complications.”
“Unexpected?” Munoz stopped and jabbed his finger into her breast. “It’s your effing job to expect the unexpected!”
Jordyn edged back. “Beacon had advance warning on both occasions.”
“What kind of excuse is that?” Munoz resumed pacing. “If you knew they had advance warning the first time, how did you not anticipate it happening a second time? A follows B, you mechanical dipshit.”
“The circumstances were very different, sir. The Carapach tipped Beacon during the second mission. They detected our gliders and intervened.”
“And you and NASF didn’t anticipate that possibility, did you?” Munoz growled. “Incompetent morons that you are.”
“We knew there was a higher risk of detection given the gliders flew much deeper into Carapach territory, but—”
“But nothing, Counselor.” Munoz stopped pacing again and leaned his face within inches of Jordyn’s. “I order you to stand down. Beacon has won. There’s no point in risking any more of our assets, and I will not tolerate any further escalation of tensions with Carapach.”
“That is inadvisable, Your Eminence. As we have previously discussed, Beacon has gone to extreme lengths in this case. And now we know why.”
“We do? Why wasn’t I notified earlier?”
“I contacted you while you were at dinner. You declined to speak with me.”
Munoz hemmed and hawed. “Well, if I had known why you were calling, I would have talked to you. You should have been more insistent. Now, tell me what you’ve discovered.”
“Beacon is seeking a banned device called the GODD chip.” Over the next several minutes, Jordyn apprised Munoz of the information gleaned from Neville Thompson’s interrogation and provided the prefect with a refresher about Dr. Mugabe’s invention. When she finished, she said, “Dr. Thompson sa
id he believes Beacon intends to use the chip to attempt to cure Jakali Syndrome. Thompson is apparently highly skeptical it will work. He fears it will trigger new gutations. So, you see, we cannot stand down. New Atlantian law is very clear. Gene replacement therapies are illegal. We cannot allow Beacon to acquire the chip. If they do, our citizens will be at grave risk.”
“Yes, of course, I understand. What do you advise?”
“There are several courses of action we could undertake.”
“Please don’t say another raid into Carapach.”
“No, sir. We can rely on satellite surveillance of Carapach for now, but I do think we should apply pressure on the Carapach government to assist us. The GODD chip in Beacon’s hands would endanger their citizens as well.”
“Excellent point. It gives me some ammunition to get them off of my back as well.” The giddy Munoz rubbed his hands together. “What else?”
“We should detain and interrogate Rodrick Hearns. It is unclear whether Mr. Hearns was aware his son had received the chip. We need to find out what he knows, meaning we cannot allow the Guild to block his interrogation again.”
“Very well. I will handle the Guild. You take care of Hearns.”
“Yes, Your Eminence.” Jordyn leaned forward in a slight bow. “Lastly, we should dispatch NASF commandos to Thunder Bay in the Northlands.”
“Whatever for?”
Jordyn told Munoz that in the heat of the Cannon Ball battle, one of the NASF gliders had captured audio of someone yelling, “We have to get to Thunder Bay!”
“We don’t know the specific reason why they are interested in Thunder Bay,” Jordyn said, “but it stands to reason it is related to their search for the GODD chip. Our barracks in Duluth can send in a clandestine force long before Beacon can mobilize a team of their own, putting us in a position to surveil and interdict as necessary.”
“Excellent idea. Approved.”
Fleeing from Cannon Ball, North Dakota
The GODD Chip (The Unity of Four Book 1) Page 21