A link reforged
#11 of The Odds Against
Another chapter of the odds against for your viewing pleasure.
As always, comments are appreciated and requested.
Edit: More old formatting mistakes corrected.
11-06-3015
Time Index; 0133 hours GST
Terran Federation Research Station Pasteur
Asgard system, Terran space
Dr. Taggart looked up as the door to the research laboratory opened, accompanying a brief breeze as the laboratory's negative pressure drew air in from the corridor. She hadn't expected such a quick response to her message, but there, in the doorway, again clothed in the same disposable ensemble of everyone else in the research station, was Fleet Admiral Tack. He looked a bit disgruntled and very out of place without his uniform. But the station, because it was a high level medical research facility, had very strict rules. Everyone had to shower in and shower out of the facility, and no outside clothing was allowed in. In addition, every lab had negative air pressure and an emergency lock down program that initiated in the case of a containment breach. With what some of the researchers were working on, Taggart wasn't surprised at the precautions. But still, the aging fleet officer looked uncomfortable without his uniform. She too felt a little out of place on this station, since she usually worked in her infirmary onboard the Endeavor, but this was far too important and dangerous to be done anywhere else.
"Dr. Taggart, Dr. Lochland." Admiral Tack said, greeting them both with a nod. Then, his serious expression split into an odd grin. "Have either of you any conception of time? This is the second occasion that you have called me here in the dead of night." But when either of them cracked so much as a tiny portion of a grin, his demeanor changed. "It's bad isn't it?"
"I am afraid so sir." Taggart replied, leaning tiredly on the bench top. "Since Dr. Lochland was the one who figured it out, I will let him explain." The scientist nodded to her in acknowledgement.
"We have managed to identify the genetic sequences that started activating in our young friend." He said, bringing up a holographic chromosome map on his display. "Here is his genomic profile. And here are the sections showing drastically increased activity." He hit another key and parts of the chromosomes were suddenly highlighted. "And...here is the problem." He hit a third key and dozens of lines of genetic bases sprang up on the screen, and then a second set appeared below them, shown in a different color.
"I don't understand." Tack said after scanning the screen for a long minute.
"The lines underneath the first are genetic samples we received for analysis from the Merxian Alliance before the war." Lochland continued, guiding the admiral to the answer in his deliberate mean. "What do you notice about the two sets?"
"Well let's see..." Tack said, his eyes flicking back and forth between them. And then his eyes went wide, and he leaned closer to the screen, resting his hands on the bench top. "Oh, Christ..."
"They are virtually identical." Taggart said, completing the Admiral's thought for him. "The sequences that aren't the same fall within the realm of individual genetic variability." For a moment, Tack was silent, then he stood back up, his eyes distant, one hand absently stroking his chin.
"Are you sure?" He finally asked, his gaze locked on the holo-screen.
"I ran the test three times." Lochland said. "They all came back the same."
"So, what are you saying?" Tack asked, tearing his gaze from the screen to stare piercingly at the civilian scientist. "That he is some sort of spy, some sort of Merxian in disguise?"
"No," Lochland replied. "Nothing quite that serious. All that this means is that he has Merxian DNA in his genome. And I mean a lot of it."
"Meaning..?" Tack asked, looking between the two doctors.
"That is just it." Taggart stated, her tone disturbed. "We don't know. None of these genes seem to affect the way his body or his mind functions. All they seem to be doing is producing random proteins. Lots of them. His last med scan shows that the proteins are all over his body; they don't seem to be concentrating in any one place."
"Alright." Tack said, looking contemplatively at the data crawling across the screen. "So, you don't know what it is. Can you at least tell me what it isn't? Could this be some kind of, I don't know, genetic programming?"
"You mean, like behavioral programming?" Dr. Lochland asked. When the Admiral nodded, he shook his head. "No. For the most part, human behavior is not controlled by our genetics. Beyond that, the only thing I can tell you for sure is that this is not a natural mutation. It can't be anything other than bioengineering."
"How can you tell?" Tack asked, startled.
"Well, the reasons are very technical," Dr. Lochland said, "But to put it simply, it is too perfect. Natural mutations, even those that are inherited from our ancestors, are fairly random, even within populations of the same species. In the human genome, there are well over a hundred different mutations that end up causing the same conditions, just in a different way. To have sequences that match this precisely to those from a species that evolved on an entirely different planet, you would have to have planted them in the cells. What is more, these sequences are in every cell in his body."
"Well, why would anyone have done that to themselves?" Tack asked, sitting heavily in a chair.
"I have no idea. Maybe he thought it would give him new abilities or something." Taggart replied, but Lochland shook his head in disagreement.
"I don't think the General had a choice in the matter." He said and both of the navel officers looked at him in surprise. "I did some digging, and I managed to find a salvaged medical archive database from the colony on Arc. It contained the complete medical records for the entire population. As you know, it is protocol for a comprehensive genomic profile to be taken at birth and recorded along with the birth certificate. The information is usually used to track epigenetic adaptations to new environments. Well, these sequences were all present when General Cramer was born. And, if you look at the data on his parents at the same time period, none, not one, of these sequences are present in their genomes. All of which points to the engineering happening before he was born."
"Then why haven't these genes shown up before?" Tack asked, "By law, genetic information is taken on many occasions. Before anyone reaches puberty, at least twenty genomic profiles have been taken of them."
"That is still something of a mystery." Lochland replied, turning back to the display. "I have a theory, but no solid proof. I think that these genetic sequences existed as heterochromatic DNA for most of his life..."
"In English if you please, doctor." Tack said, sounding exasperated.
"Heterochromatic DNA is genetic coding that has all the proper pieces to code for proteins, but does basically nothing for the entire lifetime of the individual." He explained, smiling slightly. "It just takes up space in our cells. The genome of every form of life more complex than a single celled organism is full of the stuff. But it has been shown that under the right circumstances, heterochromatic DNA can be stimulated to produce proteins. My theory, is that these sequences were implanted in his genome, and then deactivated until he came into contact with some specific compound, maybe a chemical or a protein. That compound, whatever it was, triggered these sequences to activate, making them start producing proteins."
"That's possible?" Tack asked.
"Sure." Dr. Taggart replied, nodding in sudden agreement. "Actually, all it could theoretically take is a single gene becoming active. It's a process known as a genetic cascade. One gene turns on others, which turn on others and so on. But that still doesn't explain where the new compounds in his blood came from." When she said this, the Celdanian scientist's face lit up.
"No, but this might." Lochland said, bringing up another screen, this one obviously showing a full body medical scan. It showed a 3D scan of the young marine's body, but transparent so all the internal workings were visible. "I came across this when I first looked over General Cramer's medical data. Didn't think much of it at the time." He rapidly typed a command into the computer and the image zoomed in on the figure's head, specifically to a part
right below the brain. "This gland is part of the endocrine system, and it is doing what the gland is supposed to do, which is why no one ever noticed this, but my computer programs picked up on it right away." The image zoomed in even farther. "Alright, you see this part of the gland?" At his command, a small fraction of the tissue was highlighted by the computer. "The cells in this part of the gland have been practically dormant for most of his life, the cells just maintaining themselves. But if you look at the cellular profile of these cells, compared to the cells around them, you get...this." He said typing another rapid command into the computer. A moment later, two cells showed up, and at first glance, they were identical. But then, as one looked closer, differences began to show up here and there as the program identified inconsistencies. "Most medical lab computers just look for malfunctioning systems in the body, but mine is designed to look for anomalies just like this. The cell on the right is a normal cell from the glandular tissue. The one on the left, is from that abnormal section. Now, the DNA is identical for both cells, but the left hand one isn't designed to do what the right hand one is."
"That's odd." Taggart commented looking at the cells with her head cocked to the side. At Tack's questioning expression, she explained. "Well, each gland has a different type of cell than those of any other gland in the body, but, every cell in the gland is supposed to be the same kind. If one is different, the body usually rejects it, replacing it with normal cells."
"But these cells seem to be working just fine." Lochland said, picking up her explanation where she had left off. "This sort of anomaly doesn't just happen. The odds of something like this evolving naturally are something on order of about a hundred trillion to one."
"So, someone messed with his glands?" Tack said and Lochland nodded.
"I would wager it happened in utero." He said. "I think someone took one of the cells of this gland when it was still developing, altered it, and then slipped it right back into place. Since the surface proteins and the genetics of the cell were the same, and it wasn't producing anything new, the new cell was invisible to the body's defenses and allowed to divide, becoming a part of the gland. And when that trigger came along, it triggered production of those extra compounds." Lochland paused for a while to let his revelation sink in, and then continued. "Admiral, we have gone as far as can with this set of information. If we want to figure out what all this means, and what is happening to him, there is only one thing we can do. We have to get him in here, and take some fresh scans."
"Which means telling him." Taggart continued.
"I had really hoped it wouldn't come to that." Tack replied with a long sigh. "I feel for the man, I really do. He probably doesn't even know that this is happening. And I seriously doubt he knows what might have triggered it."
"I don't like it any better than you do Admiral." Lochland said. "But we can't go any further like this."
"Alright." Tack said, nodding. "I will see what I can do..."
***
11-06-3015
Time index; 0240 hours GST
MAS Yunius
Colyon system, Merxian space
Katy sat in the soft bed, staring off into space. She was trying her best not to think of the events that had taken place earlier, but she was finding that difficult. As the fresh memories came flowing back into her mind once more, bypassing the barriers she tried hard to maintain, she shivered, drawing the warm blanket closer around her. Sighing, she tried to force the scattered images into some sort of coherent picture, something that would allow her to finally put it out of her mind. She remembered the awful feeling of Kos pressing himself against her, starting to rape her. She remembered his awful sneer, the knowledge that she was helpless before him rising in her mind. And then, before he could violate her, it had felt like the whole world had exploded.
After that, she remembered very little clearly. She recalled the vivid image of Kos staggering away from her, a gaping hole through the center of his chest where his heart used to be. She could remember shouts of panic and pain, the chattering sound of assault weapons and the crackle of plasma bolts. She remembered the image of the chop doc in the black surgical gear lying slumped on top of his machines, a pool of blood spreading out from him, and then, Merxian soldiers in arctic patterned armor were cutting her loose, covering her in a blanket. She had images then, of corridors and ceiling lights as she was carried out of that horrible place. Then, she had been here, in the Yunius's infirmary, a pair of medical officers checking her. They had pronounced her healthy, but she had been so numbed from the shock that she couldn't respond. The doctors had been very sympathetic, giving her extra blankets and then leaving her in peace. She was still sitting there when she heard someone sit down beside her. She shivered once more, unused to having to rely upon her ears alone for the first time in more than a decade. Being without psychic senses after having lived for so long with them was like seeing the world all in black and white, rather than in color; utterly disconcerting.
"Katy?" A familiar voice called, and she blinked, slowly looking over at her visitor. It was Tyr, still dressed in his white painted armor, and still carrying an assault rifle, looking very concerned. "How are you holding up?" Katy just shook her head, looking down at her lap. There simply weren't words for what she was feeling. She was so mixed up inside that she honestly didn't know what she felt anymore. Numb mostly, which was a definite blessing. The coyote nodded in understanding and started speaking again. "I understand. You know, sometimes, with things like this, it helps to talk about it. Get it sorted out in your mind."
"How..." Katy began, her words barely a whisper that broke after the first word. "How did you find me?"
"Well, when you didn't show up for dinner, I went looking for you." Tyr said, "Nobody seemed to have even seen you, not even the waiter at the café. That made me suspicious, so I...applied some pressure." He said, giving her a smile, obviously attempting to cheer her up. "Turns out, the black market has a major presence on Colyon Prime station. Apparently, he was paid to slip something into your coffee. After a while, he said that two wolves came and carried you away soon after I left. I knew you were in trouble then and I rousted out my best company to go looking for you. Took us a few hours to find someone who knew where you had been taken, and another few minutes for him to tell us. When we found the place, we used a breaching charge on the door and stormed the place. Just in time too, it seems."
"Tyr." Katy whispered, looking at her old friend once more, tears in her eyes. "I...thanks."
"Anytime." He replied, patting her knee gently before continuing with his story. "We counted about twenty dead, including that bastard who tried to...well...you know." The coyote cleared his throat and then continued, telling her how the military police had declared martial law on the station and were in the process of rooting out the black marketeers who seemed to have infested it. But Katy wasn't listening. All of a sudden, the numbness that had filled her was broken, shattered as a rush of emotions surged into the fore of her mind. Hot tears of shame and terror burst from her eyes and she sobbed. Tyr stopped talking at once and drew her close, hugging her to his armored chest. "Shhhhh. It's okay now Katy. They can't hurt you."
Katy huddled against her friend, breathing in the familiar scent that clung to him. His scent reminded her of the good times they had shared, and she found herself being glad for his closeness. But even though it was a comfort to have someone she could turn to, someone who would comfort her, the shame and the terror would not leave her, not wholly. And, deep in the recesses of her mind, where her thinking self had sought refuge from the terrible things that had happened to her, she knew why.
The mate bond that tied her and her Terran mate together across the vastness of space made her long for his embrace alone. She knew she would not know true comfort, true peace, unless it was he that comforted her. But even so, for now, this was enough. And then, as Tyr held her, as she cried her sorrows into his armored shoulder, she felt something shift within her. Her psychic powers suddenly returned, and at once, she felt the searching tendril of her mate's mind upon hers, a tendril that had obviously been seeking her urgently. Its touch was sudden and warm, comforting in an instant. She felt his worry, and more, his willingness to give up everything to find her if he needed too. And that knowledge was more comforting than anything else. The terror and pain were suddenly muffled, cut off as if a shield had descended between her and the horrible images, and she drifted near to the warm haze of sleep, feeling relief pour across their link as her mind answered her mate at last. The two searching tendrils of psychic awareness met, and twined together, tighter than ever before, as if they refused to be broken from each other again. Smiling slightly, Katy closed her eyes, and finally slept...
***
11-06-3015
Time Index; 0242 hours GST
Visiting officer's quarters
Asgard system, Terran space
"What are you thinking Mychael?" I asked, looking at my friend. He was sitting back in his chair before my desk, his eyes distant and thoughtful. Dillinger was standing against the wall beside the door, which had been sealed by my ID code. I had just finished up briefing Pride on both the plan my mate and I had, as well as the data Dillinger and I had been going through. He had been silent for a few minutes now, looking like he was thinking everything through in his usual meticulous manner. "I know it's a lot to digest, but I need to know if I can count on you." My old friend nodded absently, running a hand through his short red hair. He was silent a few minutes longer, and then he finally spoke, his eyes still distant.
"I was thinking about Colonel Mason." He said, finally looking in my direction. "Do you remember him?" The question surprised me and I searched back through my memory, the name ringing a bell in my mind, calling to mind a distant memory, one that I had tried to put out of my head.
"Who is Colonel Mason?" Dillinger asked, looking between us, puzzled.
"Colonel Daniel Mason," Pride explained, looking at the major with an odd expression on his face. "Was a marine infantry regiment commander on Cygnan." He said and I looked up, the memory starting to come back. "General Cramer and I were once both black ops commandos. Our mission was to hunt down and kill Terran officers that had turned traitor. Well, on the second to last mission we had together, the target was Colonel Mason. We arrived mere hours after the Cygnan capital's defenses crumbled. Our team had to work our way deep into enemy lines just to find the man, and when we found him, most of our team were separated from us. It was just me, the General over there, and Mingan, his brother, with a traitorous senior officer. We had to hold off on killing him until we could meet up with the rest of the team, so while we were hiding there, he starting talking to us, trying to talk us out of carrying out our orders."
"I remember now." I finally said, the memory coming rushing back.
"Do you remember what he told us?" Pride asked, looking at me with an odd expression. "Just before we..."
"Yah, I remember." I said, looking at the desk before me, shame rising in my heart. "He tried to tell us about this didn't he? I had forgotten."
"He said 'that someone was playing both sides for fools.'" Pride continued. "He said we were being used, used to kill those that knew what was happening, to cover up what they had done. He told us to think about it, think about everything that had happened."
"I didn't listen to him then." I said, regret coming back quickly. At the time, I been so hardened by the things I had seen that I killed him without giving it a second thought. But now, I regretted doing the things that the leviathan teams had been created for. "I just did as I was ordered to do. Now I wish I hadn't."
"He was right wasn't he?" Pride asked, giving a half smile. "And now you are asking me to be just like him. To fight against my own people alongside those I have thought were my enemy since this war began." I nodded and his smile widened. "Alright. I'm in."
"What?" Dillinger asked, incredulous.
"I have known Knight for years," Pride explained, looking at the younger officer. "I have never known him to anything without thinking it through first. If he says it's what is needed, then it's what it is needed. Besides, I am just as sick of this war as the next man."
"Nice to work with you again, old friend." I said and he grinned in reply. And then, just as he and Dillinger were shaking hands, the sweetest feeling in the world washed over me. The part of my mind that had been constantly reaching out across the vastness of space, searching endlessly for my love, had finally felt something. I had found her again, and in that moment, I felt our minds link once more. All the worry I had felt, all the panic and rage, drained from me in an instant. It was an incredible sensation, almost like every negative feeling I had ever felt had ceased to exist. A broad grin spread over my face and I sat back in my chair, letting out a happy sigh.
"What's up with you?" Pride asked and I looked over at him.
"She's okay." I answered and he grinned in return...