All Beasts Together (The Commander) (41 page)

“Technically, the Chimera is still alive, you know,” Zielinski said.

“Only technically,” Lori said, her voice turning professorial. “How many Monsters would it need to drain to get out of withdrawal?  A dozen?  Two dozen?”

“Once it’s out of the dry ice, it might
possess autonomic juice-seeking capabilities, similar to the ones you reported Hancock possessed,” Zielinski said.  He kept his eyes on the Chimera, not only for more illusory tricks from the Focus.  “We’ll need to be careful.”

“Sure.  Though Hancock was only near withdrawal, not days in.”  She handed Zielinski a shovel.  Zielinski examined it with all of his senses save taste before he trusted it
s reality.  They shoveled dry ice. “Have you gotten to MR 523 yet?” she said.

H
e heard a faint pop, the sound of dry ice sublimating on a warm floor.  The damn bucket was an illusion.  It was (think tennis balls) actually a foot to the left.

“Yes, but I’ve forgotten wha
t was in the report,” he said.

“Old Monster with a pseudo-metacampus,” Lori said.  “We wanted one with minimal damage, so instead of ripping its juice out of its body like normal, I gave it a massive coronary
and sent it into withdrawal.  We packed it in dry ice just like this.  Two thirds of the way home, it broke free of its containment and severely injured two of us.  Gave Tina the scar on her cheek, by the way.  Needless to say, that Monster didn’t make it back to the lab with minimal damage.”

Zielinski shook his head. 
“A Monster is a juice producer.  Junior here…”

Lori shrugged.  “Darn it, I was counting on Tina to lend us a hand,” she said, when they
had shoveled the last of the dry ice and removed the side panel on the box.

Zielinski went over to Tina, making sure his borrowed bodyguard wasn
’t another of Lori’s illusions.  Tina was real.  And stressed.  “Tina, the Focus and I need your help,” Zielinski said.  He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

“I want a raise,” Tina mumbled, opening her eyes.  “A goddamned big raise.”  Zielinski helped the massive woman to her feet, ludicrous as she outweighed, outmuscled and at five foot ten, outsized him.  “
How the hell can you penetrate this shit, doc?  You’re a normal, right?  You haven’t been holding out on us, have you?”

“If I can avoid an induced transformation during my stay at Inferno, I’m still a normal,” he said.  Ah, he thought to himself, inspired.  “The Focus is training me
to give me a chance of resisting when I go up against Focuses with really powerful charisma, such as Focus Biggioni or Focus Keistermann.”

Tina paled at Zielinski’s perfidy, but Lori covered up the slight by coughing and putting on her thick rubber gloves.  “
It’s time to move the bug on the table,” she said.

They carved and sawed.  The Chimera’s innards weren’t remotely insectoid, just its carapace.  Inside they found a rudimentary backbone and the standard human organs.  The Chimera’s adrenal gland was huge, the size of Zielinski’s fist.

“Focuses have elevated estrogen, Arms have elevated testosterone, and we
’ll soon prove Chimeras have elevated adrenaline,” Zielinski said.  “What do you guess the Crows have elevated, if anything?”

“Cortisol,” Lori said. 
Cortisol was the hormone of fear, among other things.  “Although all Transforms have elevated cortisol due to the effects of para-procorticotrophin, compared to normal humans, my bet is that the cortisol readings for Crows are significantly elevated, proportional to the extra estrogen in Focuses.”  She sighed.  “Now, if we could just get a Crow to cough up some blood for a test…”

Zielinski cleared his throat.

“What?” Lori said, with an angry snap.

“Somewhere in your overflowing in-box you’ll find my report on my visit to Occum.  On the fourth page, in footnote six, you will find reference to seven juice readings I got from him.  I saved…” the blood samples.

Lori leapt at him and kissed him on the cheek.  “You wonderful man!  Where are they?”

---

“I’ve seen these before,” Zielinski said, examining the now exposed surface of the Chimera brain.  He rattled through his mind until he remembered.  He had been doing a quickie autopsy to try to convince Tonya that Keaton hadn’t juice sucked a tagged Transform.  Remembering the several year old episode, and Keaton’s psychotic preliminaries, was enough to sour his stomach.

“Me, too,” Lori said.  “Withdrawal scars.  They don’t look right, though.”

“Correct.  These are directed withdrawal scars.”  He pointed and took notes at the pattern on the cerebrum surface.  “Undirected withdrawal scars are centered on the hippocampus area and much more random.  I’ll bet when we expose the hippocampus, metacampus and brain stem, we won’t find many, if any.”

This wasn’t good.  Not good at all.

“Okay, Henry, you’ve got me,” Lori said.  “Where did you run into directed withdrawal scars before?”

“Dissecting one of Mary Beth Julius’s Transforms during the Julius Rebellion fracas in ‘64. 
Focus Schrum developed the technique and she…”

“You’ve blinking got to be kidding me,” Lori said.  “You were involved in that mess?  You?”  He nodded.  “And Focus Schrum?  Schrum’s a political hack.  She doesn’t have any Focus tricks at all.  You
’re mistaken about who developed the technique.  It does sound like something crazy old Focus Julius would do, though.”

Zielinski felt fear sweat start dewing on his back and the hair on his arms stood up on their own.  He licked his lips and took a deep breath to steady himself.  Focus Schrum was Lori’s boss.  As with any Focus caught in dire political games, Lori should know her boss
like she knew her own name.  This was far too big to get so wrong.

“So, what does this mean, this directed withdrawal scarring stuff?” Lori said, ignoring his shock as if she couldn’t sense it.

Crap.  Crappity crappity crap!

“In a Transform, directed withdrawal scarring, done by taking the Transform to the edge of withdrawal and back, serves as an inhibitor.  It keeps them from thinking about certain things and behaving in certain ways.”  He suspected
the withdrawal scarring tricks had other uses, but he and Tonya hadn’t been able to figure out anything more.  “On a Chimera?  My guess is it keeps him functional by inhibiting his animal nature, damping his adrenaline and controlling his behavior.  What functionally weakens a Transform will, for a Chimera, make him functionally stronger.  If done right.  The Chimera weakness is too much power, because of too much Monster juice inside.”  It would, if used the opposite way, force the Chimera into full animal.  That hadn’t been done to this one.

“That’s the trick behind these new functional Chimeras, then,” Lori said.  “Does Occum do this as well?”

“Not if what he showed me is real,” Zielinski said.  “He’s using psychological conditioning.”

“Then there’s a Major Transform, probably a Focus, behind these new Chimeras,” Lori said.  “This hidden backer is also likely to be the ‘Officer Canon’ creep who accosted Carol. 
It can’t be Julius, she’s essentially under house arrest by the Focus Council.  I wonder who else might have done this?”

He had the urge to run, run fast, far far away. 
He would bet the remainder of his offshore bank accounts that Focus Schrum had used this or a similar technique on Lori to keep her in line, and who knows what else.

Useful tools like th
is don’t just gather dust in the garage.  They get used, hard.  The Focus who supposedly protected him from the first Focuses was likely under the mental control of one of those same first Focuses.

He had a bad feeling the first Focuses had
indeed corralled him.

Chapter 10

A Focus feels naked without her bodyguards.  Her fear is not unwarranted.

“Inventing Our Future”

Tonya Biggioni: February 5, 1968

Tonya blinked.  She hadn’t
been particularly stressed today, despite the emergency Council meeting to be held over the phone in two hours.  Still, here she sat, the phone in her hands, with no idea if she had called anyone, or who.

She shook her head and stood.  “Johnny, I need a snack,” she said, after sticking her head out the door. 
She turned on her office light, to add some illumination to the gray February day and went over to her office file cabinet and leafed through it, her mind clicking on something when she saw Henry Zielinski’s file.  She pulled it then took a few seconds to massage her temples.  Another headache started, a bad juice headache.  The pain from these headaches was almost impossible to ignore.  She would have to move her office again.  Ever since Keaton’s escapade five months ago, when she had visited Tonya’s residence and slopped bad juice in the entryway and kitchen, the household had been drowning in bad juice, even in places Keaton never visited.  Unexplainable, and even Tonya’s well ‘paid’ captive researchers thought the problem was all in her head.  As usual.  Luckily, her household would be moving to a new place in the not too distant future.

Bad juice in the house meant low juice for her all the time, which meant occasional memory problems, one of the reasons she
kept these files to begin with.  Zielinski’s file was huge, going all the way back to before Tonya became active in Focus politics.

She sat at her desk and spread the file in front of her. 
The recent entries weren’t good.  He had been blackballed by an unknown first Focus for reasons Tonya couldn’t discover.  The third sheet from the top was a complaint from Focus Rizzari regarding a death threat to Zielinski, supposedly originating from Focuses Adkins, Fingleman, and Morris.  A note, in Tonya’s handwriting, stated the claim was unsubstantiated and typical Rizzari nonsense.

Another note, in her handwriting, stated: “The letter writer thinks the death threat
derived from a trip Zielinski made to Europe to interview an Arm in West Germany.”  A likely fatal trip, as he had never returned, as far as Tonya knew.

She leafed back to nearly the beginning and found an ancient report by Focus Morris from before
the beginning of Tonya’s political career.  “We must do something to stop this!  Dr. Henry Zielinski has actually been nominated for the Nobel Prize in medicine.  We can’t allow any of our people to be so exposed to the public limelight.”  Tonya had forgotten the episode.  The Firsts had been screwing Zielinski for years.

Tonya leafed forward until one particular note caught her eye, one of many from the Julius Rebellion, a S
unday session Council edict.  “Under no circumstances are any outsiders to learn about Focus Julius’s use of directed withdrawal scarring.  If this information is leaked to any who do not already know (that being the current members of the Council and the discoverer, Dr. Henry Zielinski) the leaker or leakers are to be terminated, no exceptions.”

Tonya had forgotten about
that particular Council order, as well.  She put Zielinski’s file away, shaking her head, unclear why she had taken it out.  Those were the bad old days.  Not only did that sort of thing not occur any more, but as far as Tonya knew, only Focus Schrum still knew how to use that foul set of techniques.

---

“Tonya?” Connie Webb asked.

“Here,” Tonya said.
  She sat at her desk and stared at the file cabinet, attempting to ignore her headache.  The static from the telephone didn’t help.

She wasn’t familiar with this phone technology, what Connie called a ‘conference call’.  Connie’s household was successful enough to need and support their own telephone switchboard.  The household switchboard wasn’t unique; Polly had one to support her catering service, Flo had one to support her political operations and house businesses and Lori’s household had cobbled one together, technically illegal, from spare parts.  The conference call set up was unique, something Connie had paid good money to arrange. 
The setup was good enough for an emergency Council meeting, though, saving all of them a large amount of travel expenses and time.

“Focus Adkins?”

“I’m ready,” Wini said.  The former Council president wasn’t a current Council member, and Tonya was surprised to hear her voice through the static.  “I’m the one who called this emergency meeting.  I’m going to speak now.”  So much for protocols and niceties.  Wini went on to describe the February 2 kidnapping of Jenny Hood, one of Wini’s favorites.  Tonya had already commiserated with Wini over the phone about the kidnapping.  At the time the kidnapping was a mystery, unsolved.

“Jenny’s mutilated body was found yesterday and the usual tests run.  Her juice count showed she had been drained of her juice.”  Dammit!  That was Arm work.  “This is the ninth household Transform
kidnapping in the last six months, but only the second found drained of their juice.  I formally demand the Council take action against the household Transform poacher.”  Tonya knew of ten other Transform kidnappings, most from low-status Focuses with no political pull or acumen.  Part of Tonya’s job for Polly involved documentation of these losses.

“Thank you, Focus Adkins,” Polly said.  “Comments, anyone?” 
Nobody spoke, a deathly silence rare in a Council session.  Wini’s comments had all of them spooked.  “We know the identity of the slayer in one of these: the Arm Carol Hancock, currently on probation because of that event.  Is there any reason why she shouldn’t be considered the prime suspect in the others?”

“…about lack of evidence,” Focus Bentlow said, the start of her sentence cut off by whatever tricks this conference call technology used.  “The first killing occurred while Hancock was still a student of Arm Keaton and under her watchful eye.  Are you accusing Arm Keaton,
as well?  That’s a serious charge for a long time Council and Network operative.”

“…certainly am.  Excuse me,” Wini said.  “Both of the Arms are prime suspects and need to be questioned.  My suggestion to the Council is that we lean on our FBI friends hard.  I want them both in custody yesterday.  Or it’s going to be your Transforms who get kidnapped and slain next.”

Tonya winced at Wini’s lack of decorum.  She wasn’t on the Council and couldn’t officially dictate to it.  Or threaten it.

“Wini,
please,” Focus Bentlow said.  “We don’t want the government involved in our affairs.”

“The government is involved,” Tonya said.  “However, we don’t want to set the precedent of siccing the government on other Major Transforms.  Would you want the Feds going after you?”

The other Council members murmured agreement.  The government was the enemy.

“If
the Council won’t do it, I will,” Wini said.  “We don’t have any other choice.”

None of the Council members responded, though
the conference call picked up mutters and grumbles, choppy and static laden.  Even over the phone she could feel the Council consensus responding to Wini’s threat and edging toward Wini’s position.  Tonya didn’t comment again, tongue tied and unwilling to go against the flow, as always fearing for her household.  She too suspected Hancock.  Young Arms often behaved in stupid ways.  She didn’t believe Keaton would have killed in such a fashion.  If she had done this, she would have advertised.

“What if
we get the Focuses tasked to deal with Arms to pin them down and put them to the question?” Focus Bentlow said.

“You have six weeks,” Wini said, leaving the ‘or else’ unstated.

After Polly did the parliamentary things necessary, the Council voted unanimously to follow Bentlow’s suggestion.  The compromise did nothing to assuage Tonya’s feeling they were leaping off a cliff, into the unknown.

Carol Hancock: February 6, 1968

“Look at this,” Bobby said. 
He sat at my newly cleaned dining room table, where we had eaten a fine dinner I had cooked two hours ago (roast chicken with an herb rub with roasted vegetables on skewers, homemade cole slaw with caraway and pineapple, scalloped potatoes, baked apples with cinnamon, and fresh bread from the best nearby bakery, plus mince pie with ice cream for dessert).  He stayed at the table, going through newspapers and cutting out articles of potential interest.  I heard him from the second bedroom, as I put away the last couple of dumbbells from a brief workout.  We didn’t keep weights in the living room any more.  I joined him in the dining room and read the article.

According to the AP report, t
he FBI Arm Task Force announced two days ago they were on the track of the ‘new psycho-killer Arm’, listing several suspicious deaths in the St. Louis, Memphis, Little Rock and Dallas areas.  They wanted everyone to be on the lookout for women driving big rigs.  The Task Force thought I was living in a converted eighteen wheeler, cruising from town to town in mid-America, killing and robbing.  If the idea wasn’t so laughable I would be scared stiff.

“Why big rigs?” I
said, handing the article back to Bobby.  In response he handed me a Tribune article from two days ago, one I hadn’t considered relevant.  The authorities had spotted a hefty well-muscled woman driving a stolen eighteen-wheeler between Little Rock and Dallas.

Did we have another Arm? 
Keaton’s style didn’t generally include the big rig trick.  The sighting might be of a Chimera and his harem, but they didn’t usually show such civilized behavior.

Bobby took a sip of coffee and rubbed his temples.  “While you were out last night, I happened to catch something on the TV.  I took notes.”

I sat across from him at the table and read his notes.  I shook my head.  ABC had broadcast an hour-long documentary on ‘male Monsters’.  ‘The next generation of Transform terror is the male Monster, worse than the female Monsters and potentially as dangerous as Arms,’ they reported.

Thanks, guys. 
Bobby’s notes also described a grainy picture from the documentary, of an oversized bear with a bony lump on the end of its lizard tail attacking a Transform Clinic just outside Minneapolis in the first week of January.  The Clinic had two triads in residence, waiting for a Focus to pick them up.  The club-tailed bear tore the place to the ground and killed at least seven.  The reporters were concerned because the authorities weren’t able to match any of the remains with two women Transforms.