Eastern Labs

Krandermore, Survivor’s Refuge

1966.7.15 Interstellar

Dr. Jahangir looked older than the last time Janus had seen her. Her face looked thinner, and her eyes wilder.

“I’ve done it!” she said. “After over ten years of being locked in this godforsaken tomb, I’ve finally found the answer!”

Dr. Jahangir pushed back from her desk and adjusted the holo recorder so it captured the projection above the presentation table.

“As you can see, I’ve solved the issue of cellular rejection. The genetic combinations are stable, functional, and no longer lead to rapid senescence or organ failure, as was the case in the first in vivo testing. It’s still trial and error—I really want to show you the rapid prototyping setup I have down here—but the methodology is consistent and streamlined in case we need to start again on a different base architecture—”

Dr. Jahangir seemed to realize she was talking too fast, and she paused to compose herself. She returned to her chair, adjusted her lab coat, and placed her hands in her lap. “These organisms beat the polymox-5 pathogen every time. They don’t just fight it, they out-evolve it, creating environments the virus cannot survive in and then self-correcting back to functional states.”

She covered her mouth with her hand, then looked back at the glowing sequencer data. “You realize this changes everything, don’t you? We’ve been approaching immunology from the standpoint of inoculation since the days of Jenner, but don’t you see? This means that diseases—randomly assembled scraps of defective RNA that hijack our cellular processes—have been leading the course of human evolution for millennia! Well, no more!” she said, beaming. “My friends, from this point on, we will determine the course of human progress!”

***

The Eastern Labs

Krandermore, Survivor’s Refuge

4453.3.4 Interstellar

The holo froze and shut off.

Janus swallowed. He didn’t like what he’d just heard one bit.

Ryler looked at him with glowing, golden eyes, waiting for him to speak. As before, he was plugged directly into the mainframe through five data ports in his chest. Radiators had extended down his neck and back to vent the heat of processing that much data.

“I understood maybe one-tenth of that,” Lira said, looking at Janus. “Did she create a cure for the plague or not?”

“In a way,” Janus said, feeling uneasy. He knew the recording he’d just watched was ten years after the one from the Western Research Hub, but it still felt like that decade had taken a heavy toll. Dr. Jahangir had been frustrated and angry when she left the Dead Fields. She was manic and almost insane as she talked about her great discovery. “Do we have records of the hybrids she developed?”

“I can do better than that,” Ryler said. There was a hum as he interfaced with the system.

There was a three-story-tall darkened window in front of the control station Ryler was plugged into. At the Cultist’s command, lights snapped on in the adjoining space, revealing row after row of clear storage cylinders. The cylinders ranged from the size of a jug to human-sized, up to three stories tall, and each contained one of the developmental subjects.

Janus fought not to retch. The hybrids were chimeras, patchwork monsters with too many arms and eyes and teeth. The closest one stirred, placing a grasping tentacle against the heavy glass, a single eye half-opening in its palm. “They’re alive,” he said, astounded.

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“In stasis,” Ryler said. “Some of them may be dreaming. Most of these things are functionally immortal. They’ll be here long after we’re gone.”

“She went mad,” Lira said sadly. “Lonely, and obsessed, and completely insane.”

Ryler frowned. “Are you not seeing what I’m seeing?” he asked. “She did what she set out to do. She beat the plague. She solved implant and prosthetic rejection problems that afflict even Cult members today, and her work has just been sitting here, waiting for someone to claim it.”

“It makes me uneasy to look at them,” Koni said, “but is it not the Promethean way to preserve and spread knowledge?”

Janus was horrified by what he was looking at. They were perfect organisms, engineered chimeras, assemblages of extreme survivors who could take anything the galaxy could throw at them, and they felt wrong at every level. These creatures were the end of something, a pinnacle of an evolutionary path. They would outcompete any other species in any environment, nightmares made flesh.

He tried to retain his objectivity, to see this through Ryler’s eyes. The Cult librarian, connected to the mainframe, saw only improvements and possibilities. He saw the numbers, not the visceral revulsion Janus felt. “You said you found a solution to the standoff in the city?”

“You’re looking at them,” Ryler said as if it was obvious. He pulled up several files and displayed them on a nearby projector. “These specimens were going to be part of field tests if her experiments had been allowed to go on. They’re fitted with control arrays; we’d be able to use them to spring the ambushes at the facility entrances, scout the city, and even target Donnika and her aspirants. There’s no need to put ourselves at risk.”

Lira looked like she was about to say something, but Janus gave her a small shake of his head and asked, “What about the Carverites? Can we keep them safe?”

“Within reason,” Ryler said. “We can program the control arrays to restrain the specimens from attacking anything but designated targets. That will work in most cases, but if the locals attack one or get too close, I can’t guarantee they won’t be hurt.”

“But we’d be safe, almost guaranteed to win,” Janus said. “We could beat the compartmentalists and save our people. If her claim of being able to combat the plague is true, we could even go home.”

“Yes,” Ryler said.

Koni crossed her arms and looked at Janus.

He nodded. “I think it’s clear what we need to do here.” He looked at Ryler. “Delete it. All of it. Scramble the data and purge the specimens. I don’t want there to be anything even close to recoverable once you’re done. Have Vincent’s people destroy the physical storage devices if necessary.”

“What?” Ryler said. “Are you insane? This is irreplaceable research from the First Landing era. If this goes, we’re not getting it back, not in our lifetimes! Maybe not ever!”

“That’s what I’m hoping,” Janus said.

Ryler looked as horrified as Janus felt looking out the window. “Janus, think about this. We would never have to worry about disease again. We could survive in any environment. Think about how many lives this would save.”

“They wouldn’t be human lives,” Janus said firmly. “Look out there, Ryler! Forget the numbers for just one second, and look!”

Ryler swallowed and looked out the observation window. Janus was relieved to see the sight finally register.

His friend closed his eyes and hung his head for a moment, and for that time, no one spoke.

Finally, Ryler opened his eyes and looked at Janus. “Are you sure you want to do this, Emissary? I will be thorough. If another plague strikes Krandermore, or if we wanted to give Irkallans the ability to survive longer on less food or without oxygen, all of this would be gone forever.”

“I’m sure,” Janus said, although it hurt to say it. For a brief moment, he imagined being back on Irkalla, cured of the plague, able to withstand the sun’s radiation and the cold of the void. Would his homeworld be more beautiful if he could walk its surface unhindered, or would the delicate edge of life or death be blunted, making it just a barren rock to be escaped from at the first opportunity?

More importantly, he imagined what those monsters would do to Krandermore’s ecosystem if they got loose and reproduced, or what someone like Red Donnika could do to Irkalla with them, and his mind was made up. “Do it.”

Alarms sounded, and red lights flashed in the storage facility through the window. Liquid bubbled, and specimens struggled and thrashed as they woke from stasis only to die from conditions even they couldn’t endure with so little time to adapt to them.

When all their life signs had gone flat, Ryler turned his attention to the servers. Fans whirred, and more warning messages appeared before Ryler dismissed them one by one. The temperature in the room went up by several degrees, making Janus and the others sweat, but he stood and watched until, finally, all the monitors and screens in the room went dark. “It’s done,” Ryler said, exhausted, his eyes returning to their normal color.

“Good,” Janus said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, my friend. Now, come on. We’ve got a city to save and an evil architect to hunt down before we go on to win the race.”

“What about Brago?” Koni asked.

Janus wrinkled his nose and then sighed. “I hadn’t really come up with a good answer for that one. Any suggestions?”

Koni shrugged. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend, especially when I hold the knife to his daughter’s throat.”

“I love a good enemies-to-friends story,” Mick said. “Even when your enemy punched his grandson to death. We remember that, right?”

“He’s roughly bear-sized,” Janus said with a smirk. “Maybe he’ll turn us down, and you’ll get to fight a grizzly.”

Mick grinned. “Hey, Ryler? Can I borrow your staff?”

“No!” Ryler said. “I’m cheering for the bear!”

Koni and Lira looked at each other.

“They’re idiots,” Lira said.

“Yes, Lira Allencourt. I agree.”