Adam allowed Lt. Vanderworthy to walk in silence, savoring the chance to quietly observe the results of a well-developed adaptation to mutated DNA. The lieutenant had been a fine specimen of a man before volunteering for Morrison's experiments, and the work had only served to enhance his natural attributes. Muscles rippled under tanned skin, the sinewy bands well toned but not bulging in the fashion of body builders. Vanderworthy was simply a man well favored by nature and science. Even the receding hairline didn't detract; it accentuated the stream-lined look of the man and Adam suspected that it helped the shark mutant to speed through the waves. This was a mutant well designed for both land and sea. And with his intelligence, Lt. Vanderworthy was a force to be reckoned with. Adam resolved not to underestimate him.
Vanderworthy stopped them some distance from Shark's Cove, seating himself on a convenient log and gesturing for Adam to join him. There was no subservience in his manner and the wariness was well-hidden. "I suspect that you'd like to do some talking before meeting the others."
"Yes, I appreciate that," Adam acknowledged. "A lot of the data I've been getting is a bit on the one-sided side."
Vanderworthy snorted. "But it's science, Dr. Kane. How can it be biased? Isn't science based on logic?"
"Science is," Adam told him, "but the people trying to discover it aren't always. That's what the scientific process is all about: people discovering principles and other people trying to challenge those principles. A single experiment does not constitute proof. It took decades for Darwin's theories to be accepted."
"Not by everyone," Vanderworthy pointed out. "Not everyone accepts scientific priniciples. Look at people talking about 'Intelligent Design' theory. That's going on even today."
Adam grimaced. "Please don't dignify that concept by calling it a theory. And don't call Intelligent Design science, because it isn't. The idea that life evolved through the actions of a benevolent being may be accurate, but it has no factual basis and therefore is not science no matter how much some people want to sneak it into the classroom. 'Intelligent Design' is religion pure and simple and no amount of screeching or whining will make it science. Believe what you want, but build your theories on provable facts. That is science. You can test Darwin's theory, you can debate it with logic." He leaned back on the log, resting his back against a tree trunk. "Back to the real science at hand: I have a lot of facts from Morrison's research. You have a working gill structure; that's a fact. You can reach speeds underwater only dreamed of by Olympic swimmers; that's another fact. Depth?"
"More than anyone can manage with a wet suit and a tank," Vanderworthy admitted. "I'm not really sure how far we can go, since we're restricted to the waters just off this island."
"Interesting sights down there?"
"You wouldn't believe." Vanderworthy too leaned back, a small smile playing across his even features.
"What have you seen?"
"Sight? Not much. Not an awful lot of light at those depths. No, Dr. Kane—Adam," he corrected himself before Adam could do it, "no, we don't use vision at those levels. There aren't any words to describe how we perceive things, not in English or any other language that I've come across. A lot of good things came out of this experiment, and our ability to do what we do and discover what we find is a big part of it. Don't get me wrong; most of us are pleased overall with the transformation. We have senses that you can't imagine. We perceive things better and more clearly than the best machine you can design. We are more…" the shark mutant cast around for the right words, "more alive than ever before."
"But…?" Adam inserted into the silence.
"There is a cost," Vanderworthy said simply. "Morrison told you that we're sterile. That none of us will be able to father a child?"
Adam looked up. "No. She didn't share that. But I'm not surprised; most hybrids in nature are infertile. A higher percentage of New Mutants are, as well."
"Unfortunately, our defect goes a bit further than that." Vanderworthy extended his arm for inspection, the rough shark skin glistening in the sun. "Feel that."
Adam did. He'd felt it earlier, with Blue, and Vanderworthy's skin felt the same: sandpaper with a vengeance. A wrong touch, and blood would be spilled from mere contact. "Your point?"
"We're covered with this," Vanderworthy explained. "All over."
"All over?" It dawned on Adam. "You mean, all over?"
"Yes." Vanderworthy looked off into the water. "Care to introduce me to a woman who would go to bed with that, Dr. Kane?" He paused a moment longer, collecting his thoughts. "I think most of us could live with the fact of not having children. Other men do it, not usually by choice, but they get over it. Our choice was taken away. This was not part of the project that was explained to us. And certainly not…this." Vanderworthy gestured at himself, anger and regret at war with each other. "Think of an itch that you can't reach to scratch. We live with that all the time, Dr. Kane. We have normal urges, a normal sex drive—and no way to satisfy it. We're healthy men, doctor. Some of us had girl friends, back home. Girlfriends that we'll never see ever again, never be able to touch as man to woman. Do you wonder that we're bitter?"
But Adam Kane's mind was already at work. "Everything still works properly; yes, I saw that earlier with Private Tyler. It's merely the skin, the dermal coating…" he trailed off, thinking. Then, "I think I can help."
"What?" Vanderworthy didn't dare hope. "Just like that?"
"It may take a few days, but yes…" More thoughts. The scientist's eyes went distant, seeing things that only a genius could conceive of. "Yes, I think it can be done. I have a few ideas, a few thoughts that I could explore…"
"If you can do that," Vanderworthy said carefully, "then we all would be grateful to a point which you can't imagine. Are you sure?"
"Well, no, I'm not sure," Adam said honestly. "Do I think it can be done? Yes. But I won't guarantee success, not until I've done enough preliminary work to see if I'm right." He looked sideways at Lt. Vanderworthy. "I suspect you've had enough of promises not kept. The only promise I'll give you is to try my best. Think that will be good enough?"
"It's a more honest answer than any we've had so far," Vanderworthy replied. He stood up, and held out his hand to Adam. "Come meet my men."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Consciousness was not a gift that Brennan Mulwray relished at the moment.
It wasn't the headache the size of a bull elephant that did it. It wasn't even the fire that threatened to consume his butt, although that in itself was enough to see the value in general anesthesia on a routine basis. And it certainly wasn't the tropical humidity that turned his skin to burning coals on this torture rack he was lying on.
Damn, but he needed to get to the john! Gonna burst at the seams, here, guys!
"Brennan?" It was Jesse.
He must have said something, because Jesse chuckled.
"Not for another few hours, Brennan. Adam said for you to lie here until the stuff he gave you wears off. If you try to get up, you'll fall down. Then you'll split something open, and we'll all be sorry."
The words Brennan used were almost unintelligible under the influence of narcotics but pungent enough that Jesse had no trouble deciphering the meaning.
"Okay. Here." Jesse handed him a large plastic bottle.
Great. Here. In pain. Out in the open. Not even the screen that Morrison promised. Two soldiers, stationed right outside the clinic, poking their stupid noses in to see what all the chatter was about. Brennan was already sympathetic to the plight of the shark mutants, and this only increased his conviction. He shoved the bottle under the covers, face red.
But it helped. On to the next concern: "I want to get up. This thing is a bed of nails. And who the hell left me lying on my back? Anybody remember where I got shot, for cripes' sake?"
"That was Adam," Jesse told him unsympathetically. "Said it would help stop the bleeding. You remember that part? The part where you ran out of blood? Adam put some extra pints back in." But then he touched Brennan's shoulder, as if to convince himself that the man was still alive. "You had us plenty worried there, guy. Adam almost scrapped the whole mission while you were asleep. If Dr. Morrison hadn't had a supply of your blood type on hand, you'd be waking up in Sanctuary hooked up to a heck of a lot more equipment than they have here. Including a bunch of garden hoses stuck where you really don't want to think of, bro."
It all came back to Brennan, every stinking detail of the whole episode, in living color. There was a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. "The shooter?"
"Escaped. Shalimar checked out his nest, but Bayliss's men got to it first and ruined the atmosphere. There wasn't much to be found. She's on her way back here right now. She checked in a few minutes ago."
"Adam?" Brennan sank back onto the stretcher, and his muscles appreciated the surrender. Seemed like way too much work to even keep his eyes open, despite how hard the stretcher was. Damn, couldn't Morrison keep something halfway comfortable in this place? Not everyone had a hide made of shark leather.
"Adam's making nice with the shark people. He's having a heart to heart with their lieutenant right now. He should be back before too long."
"Mm." Try as he would, the fear that he felt for their mentor, Brennan was losing the battle to stay conscious. And he hurt.
"Don't worry. That guy Vanderworthy's okay. He'll make sure that Adam doesn't come to any harm. I saw them talking. Besides, I don't think I could have kept Adam from walking out there. Not gonna happen in this lifetime." Jesse's hand closed around a pair of white pills. "Here. Take these. They'll make you feel better. Adam left them for you, for when you woke up." He poured them into Brennan's mouth, not taking no for an answer, helping the man to hold the glass steady to gulp them down with some water.
"Jess…"
"It's okay, Brennan." The molecular softened his voice. "Just rest. We've got it under control. Everyone's safe."
Why does that sound like tempting fate? And Brennan slipped into a deep, narcotic-facilitated sleep.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Shark's Cove was pretty, there was no doubt about that. One look at the white sandy beach, the frothy waves lapping at the shore, would resolve any doubt on that count. Adam inhaled the warm smell of salt water, enjoying the beat of sunlight on his skin. I need to get out more, he promised himself.
If this had been a public beach, it would have seemed distressingly empty. Only a few men had plunked themselves down on the sand, brief trunks and bare skin suggesting that they were off duty. Those men looked up idly as Vanderworthy entered the clearing with his guest, and did a double take, faces falling and features glowering. Adam got the uncomfortable feeling that if Vanderworthy hadn't been with him, Steak Tartare a la Adam Kane would have been the blue plate special, barbequing not required. Adam stopped himself from edging closer to the lieutenant for protection.
Vanderworthy motioned for the shark mutants to join them, seating Adam on a boulder that sat in the middle of the hot sand. Adam, not a small man, felt extraordinarily short when surrounded by the mutants. If nothing else, the mutation had caused many of them to gain in stature and height. Not one present was less than six feet tall and most had developed shoulders to make a weight-lifter proud.
Vanderworthy grabbed one of them, a tiger shark. "Go fetch the others in," he ordered, giving the man a little shove toward the ocean waters.
"For him?" Not quite a sneer.
"Yeah. For him. Go." The next shove was more pronounced, and the shark mutant went. Adam started to relax. A rough crowd, but Vanderworthy had them under control.
I hope.
They came in from the water by ones and twos, shark mutants of all varieties: Great Whites, blues, tigers, black tips, white tips; Adam lost track of all the different species represented in their DNA. He recognized Blue, Private Tyler, but the mutant refused to respond to Adam's greeting. All approached and dropped themselves onto the sand, a look acknowledging Vanderworthy but no military gestures. It was as if they had removed themselves from this base when they took on shark characteristics.
The women came in, too. Adam gave them a careful look; there was little to distinguish them from their male counterparts except a brief concession to fashion. Instead of briefs close fitted for stream-lined movement through the water, these women wore drab tank suits that emphasized speed as well as camouflage. One casually yawned at him, displaying several rows of vicious teeth. The meaning was clear: Adam was not welcome.
Not yet.
"Listen up!" Vanderworthy bellowed at them. The disgruntled chatter ceased, all of the mutants giving the pair in the center their undivided and sullen attention. "Listen, fish brains. This is Adam Kane. He's a geneticist. You're going to give him your full cooperation. Hear that?"
"We hear you." A Great White stood up, the mutant as large as the lieutenant beside him, Adam noted. Without insignia, it was impossible to tell the man's rank and it didn't seem to matter to this group. Rank wasn't an issue but there was still a clear pecking order. "We just don't know why."
"Because, Warren," and Vanderworthy leaned over as if talking confidentially. But every word could be heard crystal clear. "That picture of the girl back in Oklahoma? The one pasted on your locker? You want to see her again?"
"I suppose you think this lubber can fix it."
"Yeah," Vanderworthy said clearly, "I do. He's the first person on this project to give a damn about us. He's been the only one so far who's been honest with us. Blue," and he turned on the private, "you were there. Tell them."
"The others," Blue said slowly, choosing his words, "his team. They're mutants, too. Not like us, but still mutants. They haven't treated me any different than one of their own. Dr. Kane, he couldn't do anything to stop Morrison from feeling me up back at the clinic but he told her to at least get a screen for privacy. He didn't want to embarrass me in front of the colonel."
"Like the colonel cared," came a muttered comment from the crowd.
Vanderworthy swung around. "No, the colonel doesn't care but I'm telling you: Dr. Kane does. He's as worried about mutants as he is about normals. He's got a team of them, all working for him."
"So you're saying that this guy can give us our lives back?" From a tiger shark mutant.
Adam butted in before Vanderworthy could respond. "Look, I won't make you any guarantees. It's too early for that. But I think I have a better than average chance at a treatment that will soften the skin on certain portions of your anatomy, enough to restore your social lives. But I can't do it without your cooperation. I need data, information on how your mutation works. And," and Adam gave a sideways grin, "I'm not military. I don't give orders. I just make requests. Which you don't have to do if you don't think you should. Just ask my team," and the grin slipped sideways, "if they always do what I tell them."
Warren pushed forward. "So you're gonna fix everything? Make everything right? How about the fence out there?" He gestured at the sea, the waves endlessly pushing at the sand. "How about our lives?"
Vanderworthy started to reply, but Adam wouldn't let him. "I can't fix everything," he stated clearly. "You and Dr. Morrison have put a lot of time into this project, a lot of effort, and these problems have built up over months. To expect to solve everything in twenty-four hours is foolish. This is what I can do: I can investigate a technique for improving the quality of your skin on select areas so that you can resume a normal, or near normal, sex life. Dr. Morrison and Colonel Bayliss have asked me to explore ways to make you impervious to electricity. Frankly, I'm more doubtful about that aspect of the research. I think any alterations that I make to your mutations will cripple the ability to sense electricity that you share with sharks. I think I could do it; I'm not certain if it would be a benefit to you or a drawback." He cocked his head at Warren. "What do you think?"
"Me?" Warren was taken aback. He glowered.
"Yes, you. This is your body. You know about your senses; you live with them. Would you rather give it up and be resistant to electricity in the normal human sense, or would you rather stay as you are?"
"You're asking me?"
"Yes, you. And you. And you. And you." Adam pointed his finger at various members of the group. "I'm asking all of you. Like Lt. Vanderworthy said, I need your cooperation if I'm going to make this work. What do you say?"
Another shark piped up, a tiger. "What about getting slutted? Can you stop that?"
Adam went blank. "Slutted? What's that?"
The mood suddenly got uglier. Adam felt a quick quiver of fear. Vanderworthy stood over him, a stalwart force. "He doesn't know, people. He's only been here for a day. Give him a break."
"Then you better tell him. Tell him fast." Warren's face was grim. "'Cause we got our own agenda: our girls, the fence—and to stop the blackies from slutting us."