A Man's World
Chapter 3: The Chosen Fewby terre nymphe
as aforementioned in the summary, this piece borrows both characters and storylines from Gundam Wing, Sailor Moon, and Dark Angel. I do not own, nor have any claim to, any of these shows and/or comics. I apologize for any perceived plagiarism and assure readers that it is not intentional.
Exhausted, Director A poured a shot of vodka and downed it with conviction. Years of research and work had finally come to fruition, and it had been a success. His little project, his little girl, she was perfect. He'd only seen her through a window in med bay, but he knew. He knew she was perfect.
The moment that slimy little doctor had called to say the surrogate's water had broken; Director A's chest had tightened. As despicable as Smith had been, he'd been well qualified, as well as, disposable. Director A regretted that he could not have been at the warehouse to witness the birth, but it was in his best interest to keep up the appearance of the professionalism and the apathy that was expected from him. The other five Founders would frown on some of the choices he'd made in regards to his soldier, so he did everything he could to avoid their questions.
Staring down at the empty glass in front of him, the tired man slipped into a deep meditation, reflecting on the circumstances that had gotten him this far.
Akai Kenobi was working toward a research grant from the United Nations Genetics Research Institute for a new study of recombinant DNA, and he was confident that the grant would come through. The board of directors had been flabbergasted with his proposal; he hypothesized that with a little pre-zygotic DNA manipulation, humans could be made to be invulnerable to a variety of diseases. He had been successful in a similar experiment with rabbits while still in graduate school. After he'd graduated with honors from Oxford University, he had submitted his thesis to the UNGRI. Hundreds of other men were vying for the grant, but he was still confident. After all, he was the best of the best.
A few weeks after his presentation, Akai received a letter from the UNGRI. The news was devastating; the board had been impressed with the progress he'd made but was unwilling to allow him to work with human embryos, something had been mentioned about misplaced ethics. Numb, he'd shuffled through the rest of his mail with little interest, that is, until he came upon a manila envelope. Aside from his name printed on the front, it bore no identifying marks. Curious, Akai opened the envelope. Inside, a piece of paper with the following instructions: "Your talents have not gone unnoticed. A ticket waits for you at the airport, be there by 1600. Pack for warm weather." Without any thought to the note's validity, Akai decided to go through with it; after all, he had nothing to lose. He glanced at his watch, only an hour to pack and get to the airport.
Three hours later, Akai was looking out the window of a small private plane he was sharing with seven other men. The plane had been flown directly to each man's home city, and Akai was the last of the eight to be retrieved. The men kept mostly to their own countenance, speaking only when the silence became too overbearing. Akai had not spoken at all; he merely watched the others from his own little corner of the plane. They were a strange amalgamation of specialists with no idea of what was in store for them. They had all been applicants for the UNGRI grant, and had all received the same manila envelope with their rejection letter.
Jitsu Kitanai, another Japanese native, was a silent, shrewd man who spoke only when directly addressed. His UNGRI proposal had focused on the manipulation of nanotechnology to produce universally acceptable human organs for donation. The idea was impressive, but he too was rejected for "misplaced ethics."
In the next seat was Ou-Yang Jiao from China. He was convinced he could prove that with selective breeding, intense structure, and extensive training children could be uber-soldiers. Aloof and proud, his personality left a lot to be desired. His scornful glare was the source of more than one argument with the third member of the group, Alphonse Bertillon.
The Frenchman spoke harshly and often with no tact and no regard for others. He and Ou-Yang almost made it to the point of physical violence when he insulted Asian standards of education while explaining his brilliant grant proposal on the importance of pre-birth cognitive development.
Yamani Hassan played peacemaker and managed to calm the two men. Hailing from Saudi Arabia, the pacifist was an expert on evolution and animal adaptations. He'd proposed a study of a group of children and their emotional, mental, and physical development in different extreme situations.
The next man was Mikhail Stravinsky. An intensely serious man, he was a major financial contributor to the Russian government, and he owned a traveling circus. He studied mutations. His proposal had included the intentional mutation of embryos and the study of their development. His rejection letter had included both a reference to "misplaced ethics" and notification that any future grant applications to UNGRI would be denied regardless of the subject.
The Egyptian, Tulun al-Masr, received the same type of letter. His focus had been very similar to Jitsu's; he wanted to clone humans for organ harvesting.
The last and definitely loudest member of the group was the American, Alexander Gaines. He wanted funding to sponsor a study of embryonic trait manipulation. He was already letting expectant parents choose traits for their children, but to avoid legal issues, he'd wanted a legitimate cover. He was also in the midst of development of a full line of cyber-robotic body parts.
As soon as the final introductions were made, the men carried on polite conversations and shared conjecture on the nature of their trip. Akai abstained from joining any of the talks; he simply turned to look out his window. He was amazed that the other seemingly levelheaded men had agreed to go into the situation as blindly as he had. Was it possible that, like him, they too had nothing to lose?
The plane was now flying low over the top of a rainforest. The men hadn't been told where they were headed, but by the look of the forest, Akai decided that they were somewhere over upper South America. Soon, an announcement from the pilot that the plane would soon be landing near Brasilia, Brazil confirmed his observations. Twenty minutes later, the plane touched down on a makeshift runway. A pair of black-clad figures led the eight men to two unmarked black vans and whisked them away into the thick rainforest.
The vans traveled east until they reached an unassuming office building on the outskirts of Brasilia. The men were ushered inside. A heavy clang of the closing door and the distinct thump of a deadbolt served to put the men on edge. Tensed, Akai looked around the room. A large table took up most of the space, and the chairs were labeled with each man's name. Still leery, Akai found his seat; Jitsu and Stravinsky soon followed his example. Gradually, the others found their seats as well. As the last man sat down, a door opened on the other side of the room. Four men came sauntering in; they sat in the remaining chairs.
"Gentlemen, welcome. My name is Giovanni Castilla. To my right are Sepedi Lahari, Darwin Canberra, and Verner von Karlfeldt. We represent a special UN taskforce. We have a proposition for you, doctors, and all we ask is that you hold all questions until the explanation is complete." Castilla then looked to his colleagues to finish the presentation. Canberra nodded to him and began to speak.
"Unbeknownst to the average citizens of the world, the space colonies have started stirring up trouble. They've begun production on a mobile suit army, training of military personnel, and demanding new laws. The UN predicts that within twenty years, the space colonies will begin the petition to become their own 'country'. Such a petition would mean inflation, rebellion, and overall unpleasantness. To prevent an uprising, Earth must be prepared with our own army. The UN is reluctant to raise the alarm for fear of a global panic, as well as, early action from the colonies." Canberra motioned for Lahari to take his turn. Lahari cleared his throat and looked the eight men in the eye, watching for any sign of weakness or apprehension.
"We have been commissioned to create a perfect army, an army of super-soldiers. We need an army that can survive in the extreme conditions of space, as well as, the harshest conditions on Earth. We need assassains, spies, and covert operatives. We need them to pilot mobile suits and we need mobile suits for them to pilot. In short, we need a undefeatable army and we need them now." Lahari watched as the Egyptian wiggled uncomfortably in his seat. Then he looked to von Karlfeldt to finish the explanation.
"This is to be a long-term, covert operation. You eight were chosen for your skills and ambitions, as well as, your status as loners. You have nothing to lose by joining this mission. You will be paid handsomely, you will be given limitless funding, you will be able to conduct your own research at will, and you will have total diplomatic immunity. You have total autonomy, no board of directors and no code of ethics. We want this army by any means necessary. We don't care who you hire, who you fire, or who you have to kill. We just want a perfect army."
The eight doctors were floored. They hadn't been sure what to expect from this journey, but this was overwhelming. They looked around at each other, silently. Akai contemplated his decision for a few minutes before speaking up.
"I accept your offer, sirs," he spoke clearly and with authority.
Jitsu accepted next. Stravinsky agreed to the terms too, followed by Ou-Yang, Hassan, and Gaines. Bertillon, on the other hand, was quiet for the first time all day. He glanced around the room, fidgeting in his seat. Exchanging looks with al-Masr, he rested his head on his hands in deep thought. Ten minutes went by in silence before he spoke.
"What happens to us if we do not accept this offer?" he asked Castilla with a tremor in his voice.
Castilla smiled at the man, "You will be sent home."
Visibly relaxed, Bertillon and al-Masr nodded to each other and turned back toward Castilla.
"As generous as your offer may seem, I cannot, in good conscience, be a part of this organization." With that said, Tulun al-Masr stood up and walked toward the door. Bertillon rose from his seat and followed the Egyptian. A loud click was heard as the deadbolt was lifted, and the two men were led from the room. The door was soon closed again. Akai and Jitsu exchanged meaningful looks, for they knew what was to become of the dissenters. A quick look at Ou-Yang, Stravinsky, Hassan, and Gaines showed that they knew what was coming as well. Soon, two muffled shots reverberate through the building. The ten men still left in the room didn't even blink.
Soon after the purging of the naysayers, Castilla revealed the particulars of the assignment. They would be based in a compound, a week's drive from Brasilia, and they had thirty years to produce a fully functional military. Castilla reiterated to the men that there were no moral guidelines.
"The conclave and I may drop in to check on your progress every few years or so, but other than that, you are on your own. As Mr. von Karlfeldt so eloquently mentioned earlier, employees are under your purview. As long as this project is kept secret, you six may do anything you wish. You need only to request funds, and they will be wired to a series of offshore accounts."
The men discussed the project well into the night. The next day, they were taken back to the makeshift airport. In the interest of time, there were separate planes waiting for each man and they were flown home. They were given a week to disappear. They had to sever ties to all friends and family, sell their houses, and pack whatever they were bringing to Brazil.
When the week was up, a single plane came to retrieve them. This trip was different in every way to their first. They discussed the different ways of creating their army. They tossed around the idea of drafting the best of all current militaries and giving them intensive training, but they decided that it would call too much attention to the project. The next idea was cerebral implants that would make the bearer invincible. For a while, it seemed like the best route to go.
"Where do you propose we find these implantees?" Hassan questioned. "We would need men with nothing to lose."
"We could use prisoners. Death row inmates have nothing to lose, though we'd have to get them from third-world countries. They're not as strict on human rights," said Ou-Yang.
"Nah, it wouldn't work. The "implantees" would burn out within a week of the implant, and as bad as the crime rate has become, we'd start to run out of soldiers. Besides, the public would question the lack of executions. Everybody likes a good lynching," Gaines smirked.
By then, the other men had gotten used to Gaines' twisted sense of humor; they ignored the joke and focused on the facts. They tossed around a few more ideas before Akai spoke for the first time.
"Enough of these ridiculous proposals. We know where this is heading, but you all are too timid to say it. We have to create this army from the beginning. We need viable embryos that we can manipulate. We need a disposable staff of doctors, pediatricians, trainers, and educators. We will make an army from these perfect children. We must instill in them enough intelligence and skill that they will be an entire army in themselves."
The other men nodded in agreement, many of them feeling weak for not voicing the same thoughts that had been running through their minds for days. Stravinsky was the next to speak.
"Regular humans are not enough. We can never train them to be fast enough or quiet enough. I propose that we combine animal DNA with our carefully selected embryos. Feline DNA for example, would ensure stealth and physical dexterity. Akai has the expertise to manipulate and combine the species."
Akai silently cursed the man for introducing the concept. He'd been planning to do exactly as Stravinsky had proposed, but he knew that at least three of his colleagues would have serious objections. He had planned to approach Stravinsky and Jitsu with his idea, but now it was ruined.
Stravinsky was watching for the reactions from the other men. Hassan, Ou-Yang, and Gaines were bewildered and almost disgusted. They vehemently protested the idea, citing moral issues. Inwardly amused at the irony of the statement, Stravinsky looked to the other two men. Akai was fuming and Jitsu was unreadable. He knew that the Japanese men were not opposed to the idea, but he wasn't sure why they hadn't spoken their support. He watched as they exchanged glances and then look at him. Their slight, affirmative nods were barely discernible. It was then that a secret alliance was made within the sextet.
Twenty years went by quickly, and the group, now called The Society, had successfully created a small army of young super-soldiers. Through selective breeding, manipulation of the embryos, and extensive training from birth, these little boys were rival to the best of the best of any military establishment. They were treated as soldiers and as puppets; they had no creature comforts, no mothers, no coddling. They were living machines. Rising before dawn and training until sun down, the boys were well on their way to becoming a cohesive unit.
The six doctors, barring a few disagreements, had worked well together over the years. There was one source of tension in the group, though. Each of the men had their own idea of the perfect soldier. True, they had created an effective army, but the boys worked best as a group. There was a need for soldiers that could work independently, and this is where the stalemate began. The doctors' different backgrounds and level of morality made it hard for them to agree on the characteristics of the perfect soldier. To solve this problem, they each decided to create their own soldier. This arrangement suited Akai well. He, Stravinsky, and Jitsu had already been in the midst of creating their own soldiers, soldiers with animal DNA. About eight years into the project, Akai successfully finished manipulating his first embryo. It was merely a trial run, but the procedure was showing great promise. Now, he and the other two in the alliance were finishing out their three perfect embryos. Among other species, each embryo had been given feline DNA. This would allow the boys to see in the dark, jump long distances, and they would possess extraordinary agility and speed.
Stravinsky, now known as Doktor S, was the first to implant his embryo. A few months later, Jitsu, Dr. J, implanted the surrogate mother for his soldier. Gaines, who was known as Professor G, was next, then Ou-Yang who preferred to be called Master O and Hassan, Instructor H. Akai, who had dubbed himself Director A, was the last. He had had to make a few more adjustments and he needed to finish his experiment in secret. He was adding a few more strains of animal DNA to his embryo, but he didn't want his two other compatriots to know. He added some shark DNA to cut down on his soldier's need for sleep, and to ensure that his soldier was truly the best he added a few more strains of feline DNA. He just wanted his little girl to be unbeatable. Yes, his little girl. None of the other founders knew what he'd done. They had all agreed at the beginning that girls had no place in an army, but Akai knew better. He knew that she would be able to go places and uncover things that boys would never be able to. He knew that a woman was exactly what The Society needed.
Smoothing the wrinkles in his shirt, he left the quiet of his office and walked toward the med bay. As he crossed the compound, he paused to watch the '8' series run the obstacle course. The perfectly synchronized movements reminded him of the traveling circus and ballet troupe sponsored by Doktor S. The discipline and grace were inspiring. He made a mental note to hire a ballet tutor for Usagi.
"Usagi . . . yes, that will be her name. A fitting tribute to the lab rabbits that got me this job." He thought to himself.
With the exception of their 'perfect soldiers', The Society had decided not to give the soldiers names. Aside from not wanting the extra trouble, names were too humanizing. Instead, they had decided on numbers. Each batch of soldiers (one created every two years) had its own number– 1, 2, 3, and so on. Within the series, each specialty had its own prefix; infantry was 'I', medics were 'M', recognizance was 'R', etc . . . Only during missions would the boys be addressed by names. The perfect soldiers, or the gundam zero series (G0-), were given names, but the names were to be used only by The Founders– never while in general population.
When he reached the nursery, Director A pulled out his "Founder face"– strict and disapproving. His team of doctors was in the midst of testing Usagi's immune system, but they ceased when he walked through the door.
"Gentlemen, how is our newest addition faring?"
"So far, so good, sir."
"Thank you, Dr. Riez. I trust you have moved the child into a separate room."
"Yes, G0- 0630 has the room next to the nursery."
"Good. Well, go on about your business; I'll keep you no longer."
Director A managed to keep the smile off of his face but barely. Usagi was alive and in one year she would be able to begin training. He just had to make sure that the other Founders didn't find out before he was prepared.