Operation Hydra (17 page)

“It has to be real.” She navigated through several menus. “This was part of the prophecy.”

He couldn’t read the words on the module’s small screen, but she appeared to know what she was doing. “What do you mean?”

“‘The serpent will split from the inside out. The Hydra will fall; there is no doubt.’ That was the first line of the prophecy.”

“From the inside out,” he repeated. “Hydran will be betrayed by one of his own.”

“Exactly.”

“What were the other two lines?”

“‘When the hero at last sets aside his disguise, the time’s drawing near — turn your eyes to the skies…’ Well, the ‘hero’ has set aside his disguise, and we understand the significance of the skies.”

“Load the file. You’ve got me really curious.”

They sat next to each other at the small round table in the main room of the suite.

“Here we go,” she whispered, anxiously.

The shadowy figure of the Companion appeared on the screen, little more than a silhouette, asexual, indistinct.

“Please identify yourself and I will load your personal preferences,” the synthesized voice suggested.

“I am Krysta.”

“Please state your password.”

“Freedom.”
She slanted a glance at Trey to see his reaction to her choice. His eyes were fixed on the screen, but a distant smile quirked one corner of his mouth. The Companion’s image morphed, taking on the characteristics she had selected two years earlier. Trey’s half-formed smile vanished and he turned his bright gaze on her.

“Where did you get this image?” he demanded.

She looked at the familiar face of her Companion. A mass of wavy black hair brushed his wide shoulders except for three thin braids that extended to mid-chest. The braids were decorated with beads and bits of bone. His wide-set eyes easily dominated strong masculine features. The outer mass was pale blue while both the iris and pupil were fathomless black, with a thin red ring separating the two. The ring could widen and brighten, indicating the Companion’s mood.

“I’ve seen his face in my dreams for years,” she said softly. “It took forever to get the image just right.”

“You’ve dreamed about this man?”

Surely, he wasn’t jealous of the Companion. She successfully fought back the chuckle, but a smile curved her lips. “It’s just an image.”

“No, it’s not. His name is Drakkin. He’s the director of the Symposium.”

“What’s the Symposium? I know nothing of this man.”

Trey shook his head. “We’re way into Mystic territory now. How did you perfectly create Drakkin’s face if you’ve never had contact with him? He isn’t even Ontarian, so what does he have to do with you? I don’t like this. Drakkin can be one mean son of a bitch when he decides to be difficult.”

“I don’t think this has anything to do with I-219,” she said uncertainly. “The image is part of my profile.”

He folded his arms over his chest. “So, when you were talking to the Companion about your sexual fantasies, you were talking to Drakkin.”

“I was talking to a figment of my imagination,” she snapped. “You’re fixated on this Drakkin person and we haven’t even opened the file. Companion, please open I-219.”

“Yes, Krysta.”
The Companion’s image wavered and then dissolved.

Krysta laced her fingers together and tucked them between her legs. Her gaze bore into the screen, willing the static to take shape, to reveal something meaningful. A warm hand touched her knee and she jumped, releasing a nervous laugh. She wove her fingers through Trey’s and welcomed his gentle squeeze.

An all too familiar voice sliced through the static. Krysta’s hand tightened around Trey’s. A solitary image formed. The voice grew louder. Krysta stared at the screen unable to assimilate the words, only able to identify her enemy.

“Can you pause this?” Trey asked, penetrating her stupor.

“Companion, pause.”

“Is this what I think it is?”

“It’s Hydran’s personal log. Look at the date stamp. This was thirty-nine years ago. Operation Hydra was in its infancy.”

“Judging from his appearance, do you think this is legitimate?”

Nodding shakily, she rubbed her hand across her lower face. “I think it’s real.”

* * * * *

They had been scanning through Hydran’s log for over an hour when Krysta stumbled onto an index. The Companion confirmed that the log entries continued into the current year, so viewing each would take far longer than they had.

“Do you recognize any of these headings?” Trey asked as she scrolled through the alphabetical list.

She shook her head. Trying to summarize forty years in a matter of hours was no easy task, but Krysta refused to be discouraged. She had lived through most of these years. How many surprises could the log contain?

Trey scooted his chair closer to hers on the same side of the small round table. “Wait.” He pointed to an entry. “Gath cet Fintar was the male guardian.”

“Companion, access Gath,” Krysta directed.

Hydran’s image appeared, seated behind a desk, confident and composed, with a few less wrinkles and a lot more hair. Krysta was amazed that thirty years didn’t make more of a difference in his face. The same cold, calculating blue eyes stared back at her from the screen. He began to speak.

“With only one male subject, it will be a challenge to keep the gene pool diverse. The male responds more readily to the fertility stimulants than the female, showing a marked increase in both seminal quantity and the concentration of sperm in each extraction. I’m still using the child as motivation. Both adults respond well to the tactic.”

“Companion, pause.”
Krysta looked at Trey, watching him closely as she spoke. “You know what this means, don’t you?
The child?
Is he talking about my mother?
Both adults?
How many Ontarians have come to Earth over the years?”

“Only your mother and her guardians were sent through the portal to this point in time.”

It struck her suddenly what Hydran had said. “He threatened my mother to gain the cooperation of her guardians.” She hissed out a sharp breath. “He hasn’t changed his act much over the years, has he?”

She reactivated the log, her eyes intent upon the screen.

“With accelerated incubation, the first set of twins was successfully delivered in six months. An additional eight female infants followed. The female has bonded with the children, but the male is growing progressively more aggressive, impossible to manage. I have samples of his DNA and a more than adequate supply of his semen. His actual abilities are minimal, so I have decided to euthanize the male.”

Krysta felt her belly knot, but she couldn’t give in to the pain. Anger was the only emotion she allowed herself. Anything else made her vulnerable. She had to be strong. She had to think of the others still subject to Hydran’s cruelty. She must learn all she could and devise a logical plan for destroying him utterly. Only then would she give in to the weakness of emotion.

“Just like that.”
She snapped her fingers. “He killed the
male subject…
he was my father, and Hydran killed him.” Her voice cracked and she flipped down the Companion’s screen. “I would like to have known him, to at least see what he looked like.” She paused, her gaze moving to Trey’s. “Does this mean Gath fathered all of us? Is every person in the Center related? That would mean we’re not just Ontarian, we’re sisters.”

Slipping his arm around her, he pulled her against his side, silently offering comfort and support. “Do you know the name of the female guardian?”

“Rosalyn.” He brushed her cheek with his knuckles. “Bekka and Lorrisa must be the twins Hydran was referring to; the first born of Gath and Rosalyn.”

“They’re my half-sisters. How will we determine who was born of Rosalyn and who was born of Krystabel?”

He stroked her arm, gently, lightly, but she was too anxious to respond to his soothing touch. “A simple scan will tell us that. Hydran referred to you and Belle as Level Three. Have you ever heart that term before?”

She eased away from him and opened the Companion. “Did you see it in the index?”

“We hadn’t gotten to the L’s.”

“Companion, access Level One.”

Hydran’s face had aged at least ten years. Trey glanced at the date stamp as the entry began. “Every aspect of Level One has been successful. The children are healthy, so long as they are allowed to mature normally. The original twins, whom the occupants have taken to calling ‘the elders,’ illustrated the pitfalls of my impatience. Some of my earlier experiments were not well received by the occupants, so I have begun to segregate the population into separate wards, according to their abilities.”

She
paused
the log and ran both hands through her hair.
“His earlier experiments?
How benign that all sounds. He gave them drugs that accelerated the aging process hoping their abilities would manifest more rapidly. You’ve seen them. They look twice their age. And he tortured them, Trey. He broke Bekka’s arm to see if Lorrisa’s body would react to the injury.”

She shuddered, remembering the tearful conversations and countless memory melds she had shared with the elders, hoping to ease their suffering.

“Bekka was in agony the whole time,” she went on. “Then Hydran found out that Lorrisa can project her being into Bekka, but they refused to cooperate with his tests, so he blinded her.” For a moment, tears blurred her vision and the tightness in her throat made it impossible to speak. “Now the only way she can see is through her sister’s eyes.”

“Are you and Belle able to share this sort of perception?”

“No. With us it’s different. More like a completeness, two halves of a whole fitting together. We work almost effortlessly, without conscious thought.”

She took a moment to compose herself before they went on. “Access Level Two.”

Five years had lapsed since the Level One entry. “I was thrilled when the second female began menstruating. Though she is too immature and unpredictable to trust with an actual pregnancy, I have begun an aggressive course of fertility stimulants. Her abilities far exceed the first female. I’m anxious to see if her progeny inherit her extraordinary powers. I intend to harvest as many of her eggs as possible and launch Level Two immediately.”

Trey had her pause the log again. “It is possible on Earth to give birth without a woman?”

Krysta smiled, pleased by the abhorrence in his tone. The concept had never felt right to her either. Children were meant to be carried within their mothers’ bodies, nurtured and protected. “The artificial womb was perfected seventy-five years ago,” she explained. “It’s called the Surrogate, and
guess
who developed it?”

“Would that be Meditek?”

“Gee, how’d ya guess?” Turning back to the Companion, she hesitated over the next command. “He said Belle and I are the only products of Level Three?”

He grimaced. “I think the only
stable
products
was
the phrase he used.”

“Companion, access Level Three,” she said. They had come too far for her to bury her head in the sand.

“Well, wonders never cease,” Hydran began. “After two years of frustration, the second female has agreed to carry a pregnancy to term. I have reason to believe that the results of a naturally gestated pregnancy will surpass all my other efforts. Besides, what she doesn’t know is I haven’t sat on my laurels these past two years. I have been painstakingly engineering the perfect embryo. This child should have dazzling powers and intellect.”

The entry shifted, but didn’t return to the index. “Impregnation was successful. Her body has accepted the embryo.”
Another hesitation.
Hydran fiddled with the printout spread before him, his gaze not quite meeting the camera. “I don’t know how she did it, but the embryo split. She created twins when I only impregnated her with one child. I’m tempted to terminate the pregnancy, but she has sworn she will never carry another child, which leaves me stalled out at Level Two. The more I learn about these creatures, the more fascinated I become. How was she able to split the embryo? Why? Will both twins survive?”

Krysta flipped off the Companion and dashed into the bedroom. She heard Trey following her, but couldn’t decide if she wanted the comfort of his embrace or privacy to let her feelings unravel. He decided for her, his arm looping around her waist, his warm breath against her hair.

“I take it you didn’t know?” he asked softly.

“That my mother somehow split Belle and me into two separate beings, when we were meant to be one? No. I knew none of this.”

Turning her, Trey tried to pull her into his arms, but she wasn’t ready for his embrace. She twisted free and rubbed her face with her hands, trembling with the effort it took to keep the emotions at bay.

“What does this mean?” she whispered. “Do we both have souls? Why would she do this?”

His expression was confounded. He was obviously searching for something to say or do to comfort her. Deciding he had been on the right track after all, she wrapped her arms around him, snuggling against his heat.

With a rumbling chuckle, he offered his embrace. “It had to be your idea, huh?”

She didn’t argue. He felt wonderful and smelled even better. She didn’t want to move, definitely didn’t want to think.

“Where do the occupants believe they came from?”

“They believe, as I once did, that they suffer from a rare genetic abnormality.” She raised her face, meeting his curious gaze. “We were told that when people with this abnormality are discovered they’re brought to the Center for treatment. But the more extensively I was treated, the more suspicious I became that Hydran had no interest in curing the abnormalities; he wanted to control and eventually recreate them.”

Suddenly, Krysta stepped out of his arms and headed back to the outer room. Trey reluctantly followed. Each of her movements hummed with anxious energy. It was obvious she didn’t want to listen to the rest of the log, but she seemed unable to ignore it either.

“Krysta,” he caught her arm, drawing her toward him, “the file isn’t going anywhere. We can take a break if you need one.”