Pakow shook his head. He hated using Number One. In fact, he hated everything about Number One. He shuddered as he thought back on the night he and Wake had finished the procedure on the poor creature.
Instead of the fully intelligent and magically capable being they’d hoped to engineer, the ork had come off the table a drooling, homicidal thing devoid of any ability whatsoever They’d implanted the psychotropic chip, but the ork’s meta gene reacted with the virus in such a way that the chip seemed to have no effect.
Only after they’d given it a frontal lobotomy did Number One settle down to where it was manageable. They had spent almost three hours inside the thing’s skull, selectively searing neurons until they’d found the right combination.
However, whatever talents the ork might have had were also deleted, making it fit for nothing more than high-risk, decon-proof tasks that didn’t require any brain power. Still, tonight, that was exactly what Pakow needed. Even if things didn’t go quite as planned, there was no way Wake could learn anything from this creature, not even using his formidable magical skill. The only magical manifestation Number One showed was a profound resistance to anything magical. Something that Wake thought of as a success of sorts.
As Number One opened the sliding hatch and clumsily lifted the body waiting there. Pakow turned to the large monitor at the front of the console. Everything was ready. The room showed no sign of contamination, and the vat itself was now filled with a simple saline solution instead of the DMSO-saturated liquid required for the process. The DMSO facilitated the subject tissue’s absorption of the chemicals necessary to start the conversion process.
Number One placed the limp form into the vat, and stepped back.
“Initiate sedation.”
Number One shook again, but this time got the order right on the first try. A small needle attached to an articulated mechanical arm stretched out from the side of the vat and slid into the side of the patient’s neck. Pakow smiled. Anybody watching the trid replay would see that everything was going according to standard operating procedure. However, instead of sedating the patient, he was being injected with a chemical that would actually counteract most of the drugs he’d been given in the last twelve hours.
Pakow sat back and took a deep breath. “Number One, exit.”
It took Number One two tries to get to the lift, hut when he was safely gone, Pakow felt tension bleed our of his shoulders. His part in this was over for the moment. Now it was up to de Vries and whoever he had with him to do their part. Hopefully de Vries had found the package he’d left for him. Pakow had done everything within his power to prevent any slip-ups, but all this cloak and dagger was definitely out of his league. It was too late for regrets, but he couldn’t help fervently wishing he’d never heard of Oslo Wake or the Terminus Experiment.
Pakow reached into his pocket and pulled out a small holopic of Shiva and their little girl, Kirstan. The reasons he was here in the first place. And the reasons he’d decided to turn on Wake.
He shook his head and a grim smile touched the edges of his mouth.
“I hope,” he whispered to the still image, “that I haven’t jeopardized your lives” He looked at Shiva’s dark-skinned face smiling up at him, feeling tears begin to well at the corners of his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I know I’ve let you down.”
Shiva, a woman of vast heart and incredible strength of character would never have condoned what he’d been involved in here. Would never have understood the choices he’d been offered. He knew without even thinking about it that Shiva would rather have died than to see her husband a part of this abomination.
Pakow shook his head quickly as if he could shake off the guilt he felt. Guilt at lying to her about where he was, guilt at doing something she would find reprehensible, guilt at not being with her. Guilt at not being man enough to protect her.
He checked the clock on the console. De Vries had a fifteen-minute window and Pakow hoped that whoever de Vries had decking the system was good enough to get past the intricate Matrix defenses Wake had paid so much to put in place.
He leaned forward and tapped in an extension on the keyad next to the microphone base. After a second. Wake’s voice filtered out of the speaker. “What is it, Dr. Pakow?”
“The subject is in the vat, and I’ve begun the process,” Pakow said. “I’m going to head down to the cafeteria and pick up some coffee. We won’t need you for another four hours. Also, I finished up the tests on Marco D’imato’s gene coding. He’s an anomaly, as far as I can tell, but you’re right about the deterioration progressing much faster than we expected. He’s on the verge of coming apart.”
There was a long pause, and Pakow found himself sweating again.
“All right, thank you,” came Wake’s voice. “I’m nearly finished with my preparations, except for a few final details. Keep me informed of the subject’s progress, and also keep me updated on the security matter we discussed earlier. I’ve noticed some excess magical activity in the area. Somebody gave us a quick scan about an hour ago. I think it was a follow-up on the astral scan we got this morning. Keep your head up.”
“Yes.”
Pakow disconnected, and then stood. He jacked into the system quickly, and delivered the program he’d put together just that morning. If things went well, it would give anyone snooping security the impression that all was as it should be here in the operating room. He jacked out again. As he looked down at the vat, which still remained unsealed, he saw movement.
Surprised, Pakow leaned forward, his face only millimeters from the thick safety glass.
Sure enough, the young man was moving. Slowly, sluggishly, trying to return to consciousness. Pakow was amazed. He would have thought this kind of activity impossible for at least another couple of hours.
Pakow watched in complete fascination as the man pulled himself up over the lip of the vat, and then fell to the floor, hitting his head.
Pakow winced at that, but there was nothing he could do. His program was running, and he had a five-second window to get himself out of the room before any anomalies in the trid would become obvious.
Pakow checked the clock again. Almost time. He turned and without looking back, binned up the carpeted steps, and out of the theater.
Deep in his underground office, Oslo Wake watched Pakow on the touchscreen monitor. As the other man hurried from the operating theater, Wake smiled. With the stroke of his finger, Oslo changed the view to bring up the stasis wing. The display showed him Number Two, just then placing the body of a young man with infinite care into a vat identical to the one Pakow had just left behind.
Oslo nodded to himself. Pakow, Pakow, Pakow. A valiant effort, but I just can allow your delicate sensibilities to jeopardize my plan.
He spoke into the small microphone next to the monitor. “Number Two, begin the restart process.”
With that, he touched the screen again, and the view faded to black.
18
This work brings me to the verge of a technological, magical breakthrough such as the world has never seen. The mating of magical creatures with cyberware is a feat most scientists don’t even dream of.
–
Oslo Wake, laboratory notes. test series OV13652, 02 November 2053
Julius D’imato sat in the corner of the warehouse, fitting the boot straps of his heavy armor in place. He cinched the last strap, and pulled his helmet from the bench next to him.
The activity in the warehouse had become quieter, but also more intense. His men knew that D-hour was fast approaching, and there was a crackle of nervous energy underlying their every action.
Weapons were loaded, checked, broken down, then reassembled and loaded again. All the men were in heavy armor now, their bodies faintly resembling beetles scurrying about.
Julius took a deep breath and let it out. It had been a long time since he’d seen real action. Fratellanza, inc. had been plenty busy providing security during the recent mob war, but Julius hadn’t taken any part in the street fighting. His role, for many years now, had been more that of general than foot soldier. Like any corp. Fratellanza did have its own combat section, though Julius knew those soldiers would be stretched to the limit by this operation.
They were professional enough. That wasn’t the problem. Some had served in the Desert Wars, some in the Eurowar and almost all had been corporate military at one time other. But there were only fifty of them.
Julius had thought about pulling up some of the reserves from different places, but had decided against it. Pulling employees like that would have caused a stir, and if they were going to get through this without alerting people like Knight Errant and Lone Star, they were going to have to move like cats until the actual moment to strike.
He smiled to himself as he thought about the big two. His deckers had found no registered security provider on record in the compound’s files, which, of course, meant two things. One. Julius wouldn’t have to deal with interference from Lone Star or Knight Errant, because his people had simply changed the record to show Fratellanza, Inc. as the compound’s Sec provider. That way, when Julius started to roll the signal would automatically go out that Fratellanza was responding to a legitimate emergency. Unfortunately, the other, ramification of having no sec provider of record usually signified that the place must have internal defenses of a very high caliber.
Julius hoped he was up to this. He would hate to let Warren down again. Just the thought of his son strengthened his resolve. If Warren could be saved, he would do it. If Warren was already gone, then whoever was responsible would pay big and hard. Julius would make certain of that.
“Biggs!” he bellowed.
Biggs snapped to at the telecom, where he’d been taking notes. His curly red hair and little boy freckles made the fangs in his mouth look completely out of place. “Boss?”
“Status report? We can’t wait all night”
The big ork ripped a sheet of paper off the pad on which he’d been writing, and disconnected from the telecom. lie strode over to Julius with the confident walk of one who knows himself, who knows exactly what he is capable of doing.
“Things ain’t right and they ain’t normal,” Biggs said. “And if it weren’t for what you told us earlier, I’da thought every contact I had in Hell’s Kitchen had started chippin’.”
Julius nodded. “Spill it.”