Chapter 3 -- Discovery

Zin sighed deeply as he entered the living quarters of the estate, ignoring his security people as they greeted him. It had been a very long day and he wanted nothing more than to get a drink, spend some time with Jenin, perhaps get a back-rub, and then rest.

"Doctor Zin," Lana greeted him, walking up to him with a clipboard in one hand and a scotch in the other. She passed the glass to Zin and fell into step beside him.

Zin smiled approvingly. He definitely had to give her points for being attentive. His mood improved immediately as it so frequently did in the other Vardian's presence. "Child."

Lana shook her head faintly. Zin seldom called her that unless he was in a playful mood. It had always driven his wife crazy. More reason for her to appreciate the title. "How was your day?" she asked, following him into his office.

He sighed and shook his head. "Haag has managed to foul up our Op in England again."

"What you get for letting an Orsusian do a Vardian's job," Lana told him flatly. Any of his other subordinates would have been inviting their own death with such a statement, and Lana knew it. She poured herself a drink as he settled down behind his desk.

Zin sighed. "Haag is yet useful to me, Lana."


"When he is not irretrievably fouling up important tasks," Lana murmured.

Zin glared at her. "Get me another drink," he ordered.

Lana shrugged and complied. "I have the results on the latest round of testing on Jenin," she informed him, handing him the drink and sitting on the desk in front of him.

Zin's expression at finding a very attractive female situated directly in front of him was one of complete disinterest. "Oh? And how is my favorite Nodulian?"

"Ready to pop, to coin the human phrase."

"A very vulgar human phrase," he observed mildly, shaking his head and patting her knee.

"So it is," she agreed, nodding. "You had a transmission from your wife," she added absently, leaning round him to retrieve it. "Your firstborn was just accepted to the Migar Academy of Science."

Zin smiled widely. "Ah, wonderful news."

"He's young for the honor. He'll be ready to join us in executing your plan before much longer," Lana noted mildly. "I'll give your wife this, her genotype is decidedly superior, even if her phenotype leaves a fair amount to be desired."

Zin ignored the comment. Lana had no more affection for his wife than Etala had for the young scientist. The two had been at each other's throats constantly for years now. The hundred light years of distance between them had done wonders for the relationship between them and for Zin's sanity.

"What other news of home?"

"The usual. The children miss you, Etala wishes you all luck in whatever it is that you are up to here and prays a speedy return. Varda is unseasonably warm and your groundskeepers are having a hard time dealing with it." Lana shrugged and handed him the text of the message for perusal at his leisure.

"Thank you." Zin placed the message to one side, under a glass paperweight strategically tinted to look like a globe of Varda. "Now, on to more important matters."

Lana nodded and returned her attention to the clipboard, her expression grim. "Our latest round of gene-therapy has resulted in five deaths. Three male foot-soldiers, a male breeder, and a female."

Zin sighed and shook his head. "And the others?"

"No noticeable changes in any of them. All are still sterile; all still manifest the same species-specific weaknesses."

He closed his eyes and growled, "What are we missing?"

"I don't know," Lana confessed, closing her own eyes. "This human DNA acts like a wildcard. It never bonds to fugitive DNA in the same way. Species abilities or weaknesses are stronger in some than in others, integration into the host takes place at different speeds, sometimes rejection occurs… then you have cases like Jenin and Kres. And with those, we don't know if it's the fugitive or the human host behind it. Either way, though, it results in perfect integration and fusion."

"It can't be perfect or the child would be human," Zin sighed, shaking his head. "Or at least half human." They had had this conversation in the past, too many times to count.

"She did start out that way," Lana pointed out. "Or seemed to."

"She still mutating?"

Lana shook her head and handed him the results from the latest round of amniocentesis. "Don't ask me what these results make her, Zin, but she's no human."

"How is it possible?" he sighed, shaking his head.

"According to our biologists, the mother's hormones are activating latent human DNA."

"And turning the girl into a Nodulian…" He shook his head. "You know what that means, don't you?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Computer models tell us that the same would occur in any other species. Humans have an absolutely ridiculous amount of junk DNA which is, apparently, not junk at all. A human has it in him at conception to become a member of any Migar species. All that's needed is a non-human parent or enough of a given species' DNA to trigger the changes necessary to awaken the dormant genes."

Zin considered this, shaking his head. "And here I always considered this species an evolutionary mistake…"

"More like an escaped lab project," she scoffed. "Mongrels."

Zin nodded his agreement. "Mongrels, yes, but with great potential. They prove that it is possible to harness traits from all six species and meld them into one package."

"We could breed an army of warriors superior to anything the Vardian warrior caste has ever turned out." Lana smiled faintly. "Lovely."

Zin smiled at her obvious enthusiasm for the idea. That was his Lana, all right. "Of course, things like that take time," he pointed out. "At present I'm more interested in using gene therapy to quickly bring about this fusion of traits."

Lana nodded. Zin was not exactly known for his patience. But, then, what Vardian was, really? "Of course."

"And, of course, the first step to breeding an army is breeding a single child. How are they?"

"They were well when I left them this afternoon. Jenin was tired and retired for a nap. I've had people in to check on her every few hours."

Zin nodded his approval. "And she is well?"

"As well as can be expected. There's no reason to expect that she will not survive long enough to deliver the child. I have the doctor on standby."

Zin nodded sharply. "Wonderful. Inform me when she wakes. I want to visit her."

"I can wake her now," Lana offered, rising.

Zin shook his head, catching her hand and pulling her to sit on the arm of his chair. "She requires sleep, my dear."

The door burst inwards before Lana could reply. "Doctor Lana!"

When one of Zin's people walked in on a conference between Zin and Lana without knocking, it was a sign that something was badly wrong somewhere. Both knew it, too. The last time someone had intruded on them, it had been to report that Yhir had been taken. At Zin's nod of permission, Lana rose and swept out of the office.

"What?" she demanded, scowling at him. "This had better be important…" she threatened.

He spoke quickly, in a low, fearful voice and Lana felt the blood drain from her face. She nodded and dismissed him before returning to Zin's office, unsteady on her feet and feeling as if she had just been punched in the stomach.

"Everything okay, Lana?" Zin inquired as the door opened again. Seeing the look on her face, he jumped to his feet and was at her side in an instant, sliding an arm around her and helping her into a chair. He crouched in front of her, taking one of her hands in both of his. "Are you okay?" he asked gently, genuinely concerned for his young protégé.

Not looking at him, she whispered, "Jenin's gone. She's pulled a runner."

She was expecting the blow and did nothing to duck it. Zin snarled, more angered by her quiet acceptance than he would have been if she had fought. He had never struck Lana before, and was feeling pretty bad about that. If she had hit him back, everything would have been well.

"She took her vitamins and several hundred dollars in cash," Lana reported quietly, ignoring the blood that was now trickling down the side of her face. She looked up at him. "Will she hurt the child to keep us from getting it, Zin?" she asked in a low, serious voice.

Zin scoffed and shook his head. "She is a mother, Lana. You have not yet been given an opportunity to have offspring of your own, so you may not understand everything that entails. Allow a man with several children of his own to assure you that she would die rather than see that child hurt."

Lana considered this for a moment, then nodded sharply. Her mind began to work. "A clean head-shot. The child can be extracted post-mortem, problem solved."

Zin shook his head. "No. Not until we figure out what it is about her that allows her to conceive. We need her alive until then. In case something happens to the child. How do we keep her here captive and in a condition to give us more children?"

"Neurodebilitator. A strong enough setting will render her catatonic. She can be sustained with IV nutrients and continue to bear offspring until her body wears out. By then, we should have a clearer understanding of what makes her unique. Hopefully we'll even have found a few more like her."

Zin nodded. "Good. That makes sense, Lana. It's a good plan."

"Now we just need to find her."

Zin sighed and shook his head, gently wiping away some of the blood trickling down her face. "I know exactly where she's gone, Lana," he told her, absently licking his finger clean.

Lana looked up, startled by the pronouncement. "Sir?"

Zin walked over to a cabinet near his desk and extracted a first-aid kit. Returning to where Lana was seated, he pulled up a chair and set about patching up the gash on her head where his ring had torn the skin.

"Where would you go?" Zin asked as he cleaned away the worst of the blood with a square of gauze.

"Alaska. It's cold and bound by water on three sides."

He smiled faintly. Trust Lana to take a literal approach to a hypothetical situation. "Closer to home, dear. Given all available data."

Lana's head shot up. "The Tracker. Of course. Similar personal histories, idealism, sympathy, and a habit of letting fugitives walk…"

"Exactly." Zin nodded bitterly.

"Wonderful. How are we supposed to get her back?"

He shook his head. "I don't know yet. We'll find a way. It could have been worse, though. She could have gone to the Taskforce."

"What's to keep the Tracker from doing just that?" Lana asked.

Zin closed his eyes, thinking. There was no reason to suspect that Daggon knew that there was a Taskforce presence on Earth, but no proof that he did not, either. Retrieving Jenin from Daggon would have been an easy matter. Taskforce involvement would complicate matters considerably. They were consummate professionals and, since they worked in complete secrecy, no one knew the first thing about how they operated. Which meant that it was hard to work against them. Unless you happened to have an expert on them in your employ.

Zin looked up at Lana, his expression grim. "Get me Thaler."

"Yes, sir." Lana nodded placidly and started to rise.

Zin caught her hand, shaking his head. "Let me finish bandaging this up first, dear," he ordered gently. "You know, I--"

"I know, sir," Lana said, cutting off the apology before it could become one. Men like Zin should not have to apologize to anyone for anything. Ever. She held still as Zin finished patching up her cut and submitted without protest when he spent several moments caressing her face. When his appreciative scrutiny of her pretty face turned into a look of almost paternal regard, she frowned and asked, "Are you done, sir?"

Zin nodded and rose, putting away the first-aid kit. "Get me Thaler," he reminded her. "Where is he these days, anyway?"

"He oversees your Southwestern operations. Shuttles between New Mexico and Nevada," Lana provided without hesitation.

She could name and give the location of any of the fugitives or mercenaries in Zin's service instantly. It was one of the many advantages that her eidetic memory and high IQ gave her. She was a perfect second to him, a truly gifted scientist and incredibly talented administrator. She also had the gift of controlling even the most hardened criminals using fear alone. Even threats were seldom necessary. She had been a lucky find on his part and he had recognized her potential even before he had started hatching his plans. The association had proved valuable for both of them.

"I want him in Chicago by this time tomorrow," he ordered as she left.

Lana turned, smiling slyly at him. "He'll be here by tonight," she promised, winking.


Zin laughed and shook his head as she left. She could always improve his mood. He sipped at his drink and turned his attention to the reports Lana had brought him. After a few moments, he picked up his phone and dialed quickly.

"I need to talk to Doctor Kells. Not in?" he repeated, disgusted at the doctor's timing. "He is supposed to be on call! You tell him Zin called!" he snarled. "And tell him that if he's not standing in front of me in one hour…" he trailed off, leaving the threat open. He slammed the phone down without waiting for a response. Jenin was going to pay for this. "Damn her," he muttered, rising and stalking out of the office.

***

James Ethan Angelo had made his living teaching anthropology, and Gwen knew that her lack of interest in the field always annoyed him. After all, both of her parents had been anthropologists where only one of his had. It only made sense that she should have been the one to grow up and into a love of the science. Not Gwen, though. She knew that she had been born for something else entirely.

James had been born not quite thirty years earlier to Ben and Karen Angelo. Karen had died a few months later, leaving Ben to raise their son alone. James had been four when Ben, also an anthropology professor, had married Moiré Nisei, a touring lecturer at the time. A few years later, she had become pregnant. James and Gwen had adored each other, in spite of their obvious differences. Species was not the greatest of those differences, not by a long-shot.

The eight year old seemed unfazed by the fact that his new mommy and his baby sister were not human. Like Gwen herself, James grew up aware of the existence of alien life in the universe, and with an awareness that a group dedicated to ensuring galactic security functioned on his home planet. He respected them for the sacrifices they made. For Gwen, that was not enough. She took respect a step further. She wanted to be one of them.

In spite of the age-gap, James and Gwen had always been best friends. When Ben and Moiré Angelo died in a car accident when James was seventeen, he had gotten together with a lawyer friend of his father's and seen to it that he got custody of nine-year-old Gwen. He raised his sister until she turned 18, and lived with her after that until she moved in with her Cirronian fiancé. Even then, he had always been there for her, offering her financial and emotional support. They remained best friends.

Until a prison-break half a galaxy away chanced to take Gwen's last living relative from her. James, on his way back from visiting some friends in Wisconsin, had the misfortune to find himself on train 805 just in time to end up as a host for one of the escapees. Thaler, a Vardian organized crime figure, had ended up in James' body and, consequently, with a solid knowledge of Taskforce operations on Earth. A great deal of damage had been done in those first months.

It had taken almost a week for anyone to connect the disappearance of James Angelo to the Sar-Top escape. Gwen had refused to believe it until shown surveillance photos of 'James' and Zin. She lost a best friend, a brother, and a father that day, and had applied to be issued a Collector the very next. Gwen swore that she was going to bury her brother before the new year, and she meant it. Every minute not spent working, studying, or on her contract duties with the Taskforce was spent trying to track down the Vardian scum who had taken her brother from her.

When she had, by sheer dumb luck, found herself working for a woman closely connected with the Tracker sworn to bring back the Sar-Top fugitives, she had been thrilled. Intelligence-gathering techniques took on a new application. Her superior hearing allowed her to overhear more than one private conversation. Her innocent manner allowed her to occasionally worm information out of Daggon without seeming to do so. Their discussions of criminal psychology served a like purpose: he found out more about the psyche and likely behavior of his fugitives and Gwen discovered which fugitive he was after in a given week. When Mel and Cole had gone off together for a weekend Tracking a pair of Orsusian assassins, Gwen had intimately familiarized herself with his War-room and had uploaded a number of pertinent files. Under other circumstances, she would have felt bad about picking the locks and letting herself in. As it was, she had been more concerned with recovering information that the Taskforce was unable to provide to her. It really was amazing what he was able to do without the least bit of material support from Migar. Her estimation of him only increased after that.

It was a large part of the reason why she did not mind bending certain rules and helping him out from time to time. This time was no exception, except that Kettai was actually, for the first time in their relationship, angry about it.

"You're out of your mind!" he shouted, shaking his head. "You could have gotten yourself Collected, woman!"

"Oh, so I was supposed to let Daggon Collect Jenin? Generate a dead body in front of almost a score of witnesses? Let the child die?" She scoffed and shook her head. "Let's try to remember that this whole situation has the Taskforce freaked, too. Zin going on a… damned Mengele trip is the last thing they need, especially if he succeeds."

"Gwynlyn…"

"Don't even start on how I'm too close to this." She shook her head firmly. "You know I'm right. You know this is important."

"Of course it's important. But there are other considerations…"

She shook her head. "No. There aren't. Táhirih and I are both civilian contractors. The same rules don't apply to us and we can do this alone if we have to."

He shook his head. "I'll get you the safe-house."

"Hospital?"

"That's going to take more work. Zin has people in most local hospitals."

"So does the Taskforce. Work around it."

"Is this about Jenin or Zin?" he asked, shaking his head.

"Does it matter?"

"Your desire for revenge is seriously--"

"All I want is to give my brother the sort of proper burial he deserves! It's not a lot to ask."

"You're too close to this, Gwynlyn. I'll end up having to bury you." He shook his head, tears in his eyes. "Look, with the circumstances… it does not have to be you. Daggon can request SST intervention on something of this magnitude…"

"This is mine, Kettai. You can't take it from me, baby. You can't. Please…"

He closed his eyes. "Just… don't get yourself killed, Taushi."

"Wasn't planning on it," she assured him gently. "My desire for retribution aside, I am interested in what's best for this child."

"As am I. I'll give you whatever help I can. Officially and unofficially."

She gave him a hug and quick kiss before picking up her coat and turning to leave. "You're the best, baby. This might actually turn out well after all."

"It might. But it won't bring James back," he pointed out apologetically.

"I know," she whispered, biting her lower lip against the tears that threatened. "Call me, my love."

"I will. Stay safe."


"You, too." Gwen left the apartment quickly, locking herself in her car and sobbing.