Asterion (15 page)

Tom lifts his glass. “Ira, I must say that I had my reservations about pulling this off, but you did it my friend. You really did it. Just the physical appearance of these beasts will cause those rebellious sectors to quiet down.”

Burnsom’s assistant’s voice came over the intercom, “Sir, Your next appointment is here.”

“Send him in.” They stand up as the door opens and Trent enters the office. “Trent, this is my Chief of Staff, Thomas Jackson. Tom, this is Trent Boseman. He is the man responsible for reengineering Asterion into something more useful and has made the mass production of the creatures possible.”

The men exchange greetings and Thomas motions with his hand toward the empty chair. Burnsom looks at them both and says, “Guys, I won’t sugar coat this. Our administration is experiencing real issues out there. More sectors are rumbling as we tighten our belts. Keeping a lid on information is not complete. Even the local bureaucrats, security and military forces are starting to grumble. We may have to rely upon the creatures to keep order. Trent, are they ready?”

Trent replies, “We have over one hundred thousand beasts, but they need a trainer, or leader of sorts to command them.”

Burnsom tilts his head. “Why can’t we just get anybody to train them?”

Trent reluctantly replies, “Well, they don’t respond well to humans, but we have found they relate to each other. Asterion will have to lead them.”

Burnsom rises angrily out of his chair. “Why weren’t they made to respond to us?”

Trent, nervously shifting in his seat responds. “It is difficult to dial in intelligence. Too much and they start thinking for themselves. Too little and you can’t teach them much. I determined that Cetacean species offered the best mix of trainability and innate ability to function at a fairly high level.”

“Trained mutated dolphins,” Burnsom shot back. “That’s what they are.”

Trent tries to calm and reassure Burnsom. “Bottle nose porpoises or dolphins are highly intelligent and highly trainable. Navies have used them in the past for a variety of tasks. There isn’t anything in the DNA sourced for this project that comes close to that. Bovine, ursidae, or feline intelligence and trainability do not even come close to these sea mammals. However, we can’t engineer all of the characteristics from the other species out and that is where the familiarity problem arises in our DNA “soup.”

Thomas interjects, “Well, we have a good start. We have beasts that are smart enough to do what we want them to do and an even smarter leader to guide them. One highly intelligent lead beast is easier to control and keep track of than the whole mess of them.”

Trent continues, “Experimentation has allowed us to engineer a beast that is more amenable to human training and command. Call it Minotaur One Point One, but they are just being produced and won’t be ready for several weeks.”

Burnsom takes a deep breath and sighs, “Okay, if it is the best we can do then it’s what we have at our disposal. However, if we fail, it could mean the end of my reign and the end of you two fellows. They nod in agreement at his contention. Looking at Trent he urges, “Make every effort to speed up the new beast’s duplication.” Looking at Thomas he demands, “Tom, make sure nothing stands in his way.”

“Yes Sir, but what about Asterion. How do we win him to our side?”

Burnsom laughs, “My friend, the same way I always get my way. Offer someone the world and they will do your bidding.” They all share in a laugh.

Trent reassures him. “I’ll make sure Asterion has no allegiance to Taylor or Christine.”

Burnsom replies, “Good, don’t let me keep you from your tasks.” The men leave the office and Burnsom reclines in his chair with a smirk, thinking about his newfound hold on power.

CHAPTER 18 - A DIFFERENT VIEW

Trent walks down the dark concrete walls of the underground facilities of the base. Dim industrial lights provide minimal illumination. His footsteps echo through the vast underground caverns. Approaching the heavily armed guard posted outside the heavy steel door, he presents his credentials to them. After examination, the guard allows him to enter. Bright lights in the chamber assault him and he shades his eyes in an attempt to avoid the full brightness of the fluorescent lamps. In the middle of the room is a large glass enclosure and Asterion inside it.

The beast, with horns starting to bulge from under the skin throws all his weight on the cage. It shutters and groans, but it is too strong for even him. “Why have you imprisoned me here?”

Trent calmly replies, “You’re not a prisoner. You are being protected.”

“Protected from what? I’m in a locked box that I cannot exit. What would you call it?”

“Okay, it’s for everyone’s protection. Our leader, Ira Burnsom commissioned your creation. You are very special to him.”

“I only know the ones called Taylor and Christine. I have seen you around the lab, but I don’t know you.”

“You only know them because I made you smart enough to be conscious. You can think and ponder, plot and dream because of me. If it is up to them, you would be nothing more than a smart cow.”

Asterion demands “Prove it.”

“Oh, have you been eating the food we provided?”

“Yes”

“I made sure it is the best available. Now, let me show you something that will open your eyes.”

Trent grabs the monitor remote and shows Asterion video footage of Taylor and Christine considering the termination of Asterion if the experiment did not turn out, as they wanted. “See, they wanted you to be like the beasts in the field. You’re lucky that they did not give you a tail so that you could swat the flies trying to steal moisture from your nostrils. They wanted you to feel the heat and cold of the seasons and wallow in mud up to your knees while you worked for them.”

“I have no special affinity for them. I just have the memories, but now I know the whole truth.”

Trent smiled when he heard this. He is counting on the lack of family cohesion present in most animals. “Good, I have a proposition from our leader that will win you your freedom my friend.”

Asterion leans towards Trent. “Let’s hear it.”

“Leader Burnsom is impressed with your intelligence and power, so much so that he wants you to take his place as leader someday.”

“What day?”

“Soon, very soon my friend, however, it does come with a price.”

Asterion skeptically replies, “Of course it does. Go on.”

Trent turns on the monitor. “We have created a legion of your kind. Strong and powerful, they will defeat the enemies of our country with you as their leader and mentor. They each have the protective torso cover and armored shorts to prevent injury due to the unusual posture each of you have. To withstand battle damage they use the latest ballistic resistant material in their construction. With them, you can rule the world when the time comes.” The creatures are almost duplicates of you, only shorter. We engineered them to grow to no more than six feet tall. Size matters when you have to go into buildings and size matters when animals respect the largest, most powerful in the herd. You are over seven feet tall. By their actions, one can tell they lack Asterion’s intelligence, but their aggressiveness shows the power they each possess.

Asterion studies the monitor and is excited about the prospects. “Where do I sign?”

Trent smiles, “Good, I will inform Burnsom.”

Trent leaves Asterion in his cage and strolls down the hall. The smile on his face shows the satisfaction welling up inside him. Asterion, through natural means and deceit has turned away from Taylor and Christine. “No more second fiddle for me,” he thinks to himself.

Asterion sits in the cage and ponders the past and the future. He could have been nothing more than a mass of tissue in a garbage pail, just another failed attempt in the lab of cold calculating scientists or a dumb beast of burden “Power should be mine,” he thought, “Power to control my destiny and not be at the mercy of lesser creatures.”

Trent returns later and tells Asterion, “It has been set up. However, we have enemies and spies on the base. We will move you out of here while it is still safe. At the other location, you and Burnsom will acknowledge the agreement between each other and you will be free to carry out your conquest.”

Asterion turns his head. “I thought Burnsom had complete control of this country.”

“Yes, but power is slipping fast and it is imperative that we act fast and act together. United, we all will win.”

Asterion looks down at Trent, “Agreed!” He sits in his enclosure waiting for transportation out of this dungeon and reflects on religion and origins. Is everything we see just a lucky chance. Like a roll of the dice on the cosmic table, or the plan of a master engineer. Where is the Creator, if he is even real? Taylor told me everyone has a purpose. I guess he meant as a slave if he had his way. How do I fit in this enigma? He determines that if he can’t see it, touch it or feel it, then it is not worth his time to consider it. Besides, he will be the god of this world soon enough.

Taylor and Christine sit on the couch in the motel waiting for their next move. Exhausted they fall asleep in front of the monitor. Christine’s hand is warm on his face and it comforts him as the rhythmic rise and fall of their chests sync up and slow down. They feel their pulses alternate as if answering each other as sleep takes over.

Near morning, Taylor starts to groan in his sleep. He dreams of walking down an unlit hall towards a light at the end. He enters a dark room with no visible walls and the AutoDNA is lit up in the middle of it. It is the only object in focus. Everything else is hazy and muted. As he approaches it, he hears it start up. Out of the end comes a series of grotesque, rotting heads with parts of the skull exposed with long blood matted hair trailing behind, blowing in the wind. He stands, rooted in horror. With mouths wide, they shriek and scream at him as he finally turns and runs. Even though he is not facing them, he can still see them as they pursue him. He feels his pulse races and his heart pounds as he tries to escape from them. He slows to a crawl. Unable to run he struggles against an unseen force that hinders him. They close in and he falls to the ground. He covers his head and ears to shield from the horror, yet he still sees them coming for him. He hears a familiar voice, “Eat his flesh. Eat it forever.”

He grunts as his disturbed slumber awakens him. Shaken from the dream he wonders if he went too far with his experimentation. He considers whether he tried to be too much like God. As he looks out the window, he sees a bright turquoise meteor streak across the sky and it disappears. He focuses on the Milky Way with its myriad of stars and feels his insignificance in the vastness of the universe. Pinpricks of light, they are so large, yet so far away they are like grains of sand. Like him, just a speck among eight billion specks on a speck of a world. As small as he felt, he knew that this speck had done something that would affect all the others. He sighed and with a heavy heart, wondered if there is still time to reverse the wrong. Is it too late for anything, even freedom?

Christine woke to his sigh. “My neck. How can you sleep in an awkward position all night and not know it.” She gets up and tries to straighten out against the stiffness she felt in her bones.

Taylor turns, swallows hard and replies, “I don’t know. I don’t know much about anything nowadays. What is right, what is wrong, truth, lies, or our chance of success or even how we’ll fare in the end? I do know that I never want us to be apart ever again. Will you marry me?”

Christine sits there stunned with her mouth open. She shouts, “Yes and runs into his arms.” They embrace for what seems like hours and then she steps back and says, “Maybe we should take care of a few things first before we get hitched.”

Taylor sighs, “Yea, but don’t you feel like running away from it all and just doing what you want?”

Christine says, “You could run away from the problem, but could you outrun the guilt?”

“No,” is his reluctant reply. “When will we meet our contact?”

“Probably within a few hours I guess. Oh, we’ll have time to eat!”

CHAPTER 19 - MEET AND GREET

They ate in silence. Between smiles and pensive expressions, they did not know how to feel. The rollercoaster of elation and impending conflict wrestled their emotions to exhaustion. Returning to their room, they waited.

They jump when they hear a knock at the door. Christine looks through the peephole and lets two men in the room.

Taylor recognizes William Jacobs, but the other man is a stranger to him. Jacobs introduces the other man. “Taylor, Christine, this is Robert Cameron. He represents the spiritual wing of the Liberty Movement.”

“Call me Bob,” Cameron said with a smile on his wrinkled face. He reached out and shook their hands while exploring their faces. His white hair and calm manner fit their image of a spiritual leader.

Taylor replied, “It’s good to meet you sir. I recognize your voice; you are the narrator of the documentaries we watched.”

Christine shakes his hand. “Yes, I recognize it.”

He smiles and responds, “Yes, that was me. Bill here tells me that both of you had a hand in Burnsom’s latest handiwork.”

“More like clueless patsies,” Taylor replied.