The Immortal Harvest (29 page)

Our investigation revealed that subsequent to the Doctor’s murder an intern and security guard were neutralised.

Three wards of donors in Section C were also liberated. We were unable to apprehend the person or persons responsible. We don’t believe that it was one of the donors as they are secured and sedated on arrival.”

Stringer raised his eyebrows at these revelations.
Just what I fucking need, a hero trying to save the day,
he thought as he raged at the young guard.

“Are you fucking kidding me? What kind of security operation are you idiots running here?

Of course it’s one of the donors, who else could it be?”

“You’re the one carrying the knife. It could be you,” the lead guard said nervously.

Unfortunately, he was too slow to react to the flash of silver which opened up his throat.

He gurgled in astonishment as he instinctively clutched at his throat with both of his hands. He collapsed onto his knees and then fell forward onto his face. He was dead before he hit the ground.

The other three guards were stunned at the speed at which Stringer had silenced his detractor.

“Does anyone else have anything stupid to say – No one? Good.

Now – I want you three to get your arses back to your security office and go over the last two hours of camera footage and report back to me if you find anything.

“Here, give me your radio and make sure you take this piece of shit with you,” Stringer said as he put his briefcase down and grabbed the radio and hand of the nearest guard in a vice like grip.

He smiled slightly as he put the radio into his pocket and then slowly wiped the gore covered knife on the guard’s sleeve.

“By the way, if I hear that any of you mentioned to anyone that I was here, you can expect me to come and pay you a visit, and remember this – I don’t always kill so quickly”, he said as he let the guard’s hand go and inspected the cleanliness of his knife.

He then picked up his briefcase, turned around and strode quickly up the corridor away from the traumatised group of security guards towards Section C.

As he walked, his mind went over the Intel that he had just obtained. He thought about the
hero
and wondered who could be so bold. He had to assume that whoever it was they would have had to have some form of military training.

He would have to adopt his strategy to this new development. He focused on his neural net and attempted to access the security cameras in his vicinity.

He grunted in disgust at the jumble of images that were appearing. The freqlock was interfering with his neural net and it was getting worse.

He severed the link and struggled to contain his rage at the puppet masters who had total control over his destiny.

Fuck all of this technical crap, I’m going to have to do this the hard way,
he thought as he turned down the corridor which would take him to Section C.

He gripped the hilt of his hunting knife until his knuckles turned white. The conflict with the security guards had strengthened his resolve. He had decided on his course of action.

He now had three targets; the hero, the woman and the boy. If he was lucky he might find them all together. However, after the day he was having, he seriously doubted that luck was on his side.

After his meeting with Dr Becker, Michael had returned to his domicile.

He was anxious to try out his theory, but knew that he would have to be patient.

After his last communication with Justen, he had all but depleted their scarce supply of exotic matter and so resigned himself to the fact that his only course of action would be to wait until Oppenheimer had collected more.

Even though his theory meant that he would require less material, he still needed sufficient matter to at least open up a micro-event horizon to enable him to establish a cross dimensional link with Justen’s mind.

As usual his mind heaved with thoughts and over the years he had developed techniques for dealing with the onslaught.

He had developed the ability to compartmentalise his thoughts. Similar to the structure of the Central Processing Unit of a computer, he could prioritise his thoughts. Without this ability Michael knew that he would have gone insane a long time ago.

Dr Becker was the only person that Michael truly trusted on his world and was also the only person of whom he had truly shared his thoughts and feelings. No one else understood the torment that he had to endure.

Dr Becker had offered to provide Michael with a strong calmative to help him sleep. Reluctantly, and only after several months of sleepless nights, Michael had agreed to occasionally take the neural infuser.

This was one night that he deemed it necessary to escape the torment.

“Lights off!” Michael said as he slowly lay back on the bed and placed the infuser on his tongue. He took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled as he waited for it to completely dissolve. It only took a couple of minutes for the sedative to take effect and Michael drifted off into a fitful state of sedation.

It was several hours later when Michael was disturbed by the buzzing of his neural net. It only seemed like he had been asleep for a few minutes and he opened his eyes.

“Time”, he said as he squinted at the fluorescent blue holographic time display which appeared in mid air about a meter from his face.

He moaned when he realised what time it was and then focused on the red flash in his peripheral vision which signalled that he had an urgent incoming call. He recognised the voice immediately. It was Dr Oppenheimer.

“Michael, I’m sorry to disturb you. Is this a bad time?”

Michael suppressed his feelings of rage and responded. Even to him his voice sounded cool and distant.

“Dr Oppenheimer, frankly your timing sucks. What do you want? Have you called to tell me that you have acquired some more exotic matter?”

“I need you at the Lab Michael. I have a problem and I have been unable to contact Dr Becker.”

Michael sensed that there was something that the Doctor wasn’t telling him.

“Problem? What problem? Why do you need me? Aren’t you the expert?”

“I I would rather tell you face to face Michael. It’s about your son.

How soon can you be here?”

Michael sat up and scratched his head. He inhaled sharply.

“Yeah, alright give me twenty minutes. Michael out!” he said as he tapped the side of his head.

He gulped down a glass of fresh apricot juice to neutralise the taste of the infuser and told the computer to go on sentry mode as he left the comfort of his domicile.

*     *     *

Oppenheimer was nervous, very nervous. He felt the knot in his stomach tighten as he paced the floor of the laboratory. He pulled a rag from his pocket and dabbed at the beads of sweat that had started to erupt from the skin on his forehead.

The thoughts in his mind were disjointed and confused. The effects of ageing were starting to become more and more apparent with each passing day.

He felt the bitter pangs of anxiety as he realised that his dementia was slowly pushing him to the edge of oblivion.

His mind drifted back thirty years; he smiled at the irony of decades old memories supplanting the neurons in his short term memory. The thought was fleeting however as the memory congealed into a reality.

He felt the angst, the sheer agony of loss as he struggled to free himself of the debris of the building that had collapsed and killed most of his family.

He could vividly see the crystal clear images of the mangled corpses that lay out before him on the street as he slowly and methodically identified each victim.

The memory vanished abruptly and he hurriedly wiped away the tear trail on his cheek as he heard the laboratory door slide open behind him. He turned slowly to greet the young mutant.

He thought that Michael was an abomination of nature, one that he knew could bring about the downfall of Mundus Nova.

“Ah Michael, it’s good to see you. Thank you for coming down,” he said as he moved towards Michael and extended his hand.

“Cut the crap Oppenheimer. What’s the urgency? Have you located Doctor Becker? I have been unable to reach his neural net.”

Oppenheimer smiled slightly and turned slowly away from the mutant. He pointed towards the door at the side of the laboratory.

“Yes, I located Doctor Becker I asked him to come as well; he is in the Traverser room. Maybe the EM from the Traverser is interfering with your neural net. How about we go and see what he is up to.”

Oppenheimer allowed the mutant to proceed through the door before him. He knew that there would definitely be repercussions for what was about to unfold. Fortunately, he was prepared.

He watched Michael’s reaction as he realised that he had been led into a trap and smiled as with one swift movement he plunged the hypodermic that he had been concealing in his lab coat pocket, into Michael’s TDI at the back of his neck and watched with satisfaction as the mutant collapsed onto the laboratory floor.

He stepped over the slumped body and proceeded to the Traverser terminal and powered up the wormhole generator.

He hummed to himself to drown out the grunts and moans coming from Doctor Becker who was tied, gagged and bound to an office chair just a few feet from the rapidly swirling event horizon of the wormhole.

Oppenheimer, satisfied that the wormhole was stable, ripped the masking tape from the Doctor’s mouth.

“What is it Doctor Becker? Have you got a problem? Do you have something important to say?”

He seemed surprised at the ferocity of the normally placid Doctor’s response.

“Oppenheimer, what the fuck do you think you are doing? What have you done to Michael? Release me this instant or else!”

Oppenheimer raised an eyebrow and smiled at his captor.

“I know exactly what I’m doing Doctor Becker trust me, I intend to release you and Michael, but first I would like to tell you a story.”

“Forget it Oppenheimer, I know all about you, I recruited you remember? I brought you in to the protection of our organisation and let you thrive.”

“Ah but that’s the thing. You know very little about me. For example I bet you didn’t know that I am in fact the very person that your organisation has been fighting against. I run Mundus Nova with the help of my family.”

“You’re delusional Oppenheimer, you have no family, they all died in the Great War, and obviously your brain has finally flipped. I knew it would only be a matter of time before your dementia took control of you.”

Oppenheimer ignored the Doctor’s feeble taunts and continued.

“During the Great War, I spent every waking minute trying to save people’s lives. I was a young man then, I believed that I could do anything and with the new vaccine I thought that I would continue to achieve great things for millennia.”

Oppenheimer revelled in the Doctor’s response as he grabbed a loop of rope from the Traverser console and moved to the body of the unconscious mutant.

“You took the vaccine? Why? I thought you were against artificial life enhancement you raving hypocrite!”

Oppenheimer stopped wrapping the Mutant’s legs in the rope and turned to face his accuser. His face became crimson with rage as he screamed at the Doctor.

“That’s the problem Doctor Becker; you think I’m just a fool. Why wouldn’t I take the vaccine? Why wouldn’t I jump at the chance to vastly expand my life expectancy? I was a great Doctor, I had a loving family, I wanted to enjoy the fact that I had hundreds of years to continue my work and spend time with them. Why shouldn’t I be
immortal
?”

“You’re a fool Oppenheimer, you are not immortal, and never will be immortal. No one should be immortal. Don’t you get it? You are all victims of the JDL virus. Your immortality only lasts for a decade, we made sure of that. We…”

Oppenheimer raised his eyebrows at the last revelation. He turned from the mutant and glared at the Doctor. He could feel a surge of rage well up from within.

“What do you mean? Did YOU make the virus? Are you saying that YOU are responsible for the deaths of millions?”

“You are just as responsible Oppenheimer, you and the rest of Mundus Nova and that insane Immortal Harvest. You are killing innocent people to sustain your own pitiful existence.”

“If it wasn’t for your meddling Doctor, the Harvest would not be needed. It is your fault that my daughter Susan is collecting organs for Mundus Nova from a worthless planet of morons. You and this mutant,” Oppenheimer said as he turned back towards Michael and began binding his wrists.

He completed the task and began dragging Michael towards the Event Horizon of the wormhole.

He possessed the same neural enhancements that Stringer had had implanted that boosted his physical strength and made the task effortless.

“You are a coward Oppenheimer, can’t you see what you are doing is wrong?

Those
morons,
as you call them, are people just like you and I, their Earth is just like ours, and they have families just like us.

What about your family? You have no daughter, there is no Susan. She perished with the rest of your family. You should ensure that they didn’t perish in vain, you can still stop this insanity and help us end this.”

Oppenheimer had finished dragging Michael’s body and had laid him across the entrance to the wormhole.

“Oh, I am ending this Doctor Becker and I did promise that I would release you, but first you can watch as the mutant is consumed by the event horizon.

Like you, I have disabled his TDI, without it he will be atomised. A fitting end wouldn’t you say for a mutant?”

“Oppenheimer, I beg you. Please don’t do this; Michael is mankind’s only hope. You need him!”

“Ha! I need
him
? We don’t need
him
.”

“Yes, Michael was genetically created to assist with our progression. He has given us so much, he…”

“You see, that’s where you are wrong my good Doctor
, he
is a mutant and all mutants and the seeds of mutants deserve to die, especially those that threaten our existence and continued existence.”