Chapter 12:
"Gorgon"

August 4, 1915
Red Star Chemicals
Research Laboratory Headquarters

Alek took a sharp left turn, returning to the staircase that descended down to the third level. Vost had let slip that animal subjects would be on the fifth floor, but he hadn't said which block. Alek doubted that he would find them in block C- Vost wasn't a particularly cautious man, but even he had to be clever enough to keep from summoning visitors to a room a mere two floors above his most valuable research assets.

That left blocks A, B, D, and E. There was nothing for it- Alek would have to search the fifth floor of each laboratory to find what he needed. This process of elimination was a simple enough method, and it was the only plan he had. He'd just have to do it fast. Without hesitation, he headed down the staircase to the fourth floor.

Alek tried to ignore the doubts that were gnawing at his resolve. Even if you find something, how could you possibly understand what it is, or how it works? And even if you manage to recognize something, what will you do about it? What can you do about it?

He breathed a sigh of relief when he reached the fourth floor and saw that the corridors were labeled. One less thing to worry about. Fortunately, he also didn't notice any guards around. The complex was quiet. His own footsteps echoed unnervingly through the halls. It was odd. This facility was enormous, and home to one of the largest chemical manufacturing companies in a world at war. Yet not a soul was in sight. Where were the employees? The scientists? Alek would have been satisfied at even the sight of a janitor.

But there was no one.

Alek ignored his feelings of unease as he approached the A block and started down the staircase to the fifth floor. It didn't matter that no one was here, he told himself. That made his snooping quite a lot simpler. He didn't have the luxury or time to fret about something he could not control or change.

He reached A5 and decided to put any thoughts of wariness out of his mind. He had better things to worry about. Not to mention that it was difficult to think of anything with that horrific scent permeating the air. A mixture of dirty wet fur and dung. Alek felt filthy just breathing it in.

The first few rooms Alek explored seemed utterly harmless. Inside were several large microscopes, jars of fruit flies, and standard laboratory equipment like tongs, matches, and flasks of all different sizes. Meticulously organized, labeled bottles sat on shelves, with scientific manuals stacked neatly in place below.

Just when Alek had begun to think that nothing here was remotely interesting or important to his investigation, he entered the next room.

Metal mesh cages were bolted the walls, stacked on top of each other in towers. In here, the rancid smell was nearly unbearable. Alek choked involuntarily, his eyes watering, and held his nose. He was almost afraid to look at the creatures inside the cages, but was greeted with a mixture of relief and horror when he realized that they were nothing he hadn't seen before.

There was a cat in every cage. Black cats, tabby cats, kittens and even strange catlike creatures without any fur at all. They began to mew furiously when they noticed him, and Alek realized with horror just how deplorable their conditions were.

One enormously fat cat with silvery grey fur was so large that he was pressed painfully up against the side of his cage, the metal wire pressed into his skin. Another cat, small and brown, was crouching in the far back corner of its cage when Alek approached. It was clearly terrified of him, its tiny body trembling pitifully. A black cat was hissing fiercely, scrabbling with its claws at the cage door.

Alek had never been particularly fond of cats. He had never understood them, and had never seen the point of keeping one for company. But he was not devoid of compassion, and the sight of these poor animals astonished him. So many emotions consumed him- pity for these defenseless creatures, disgust at their revolting smell, and rage for the people who had allowed this to happen. Had Vost known about this? It was his company, after all. Perhaps it had been his idea.

Alek wanted nothing more than to open every cage and let these poor beasts roam free, but he knew that doing something that reckless would sabotage is chances at uncovering the secrets Red Star Chemicals were hiding about their new lethal gas. But as he turned away, he felt a pang of guilt.

"I'm sorry," he said softly as he approached one of the cages. Inside cowered a small grey kitten. Its tiny ears were perked up and its nose was pointed towards him, but Alek realized something was wrong with its eyes. He peered at it closely and saw that they were firmly shut. Was it blind?

Alek quickly returned to a room he'd been in earlier, and fetched a pair of wire cutters that he'd noticed sitting on a tabletop. He returned to the cage and carefully the side of the flimsy cage, creating an opening. With one hand, he reached in and gently picked up the blind kitten by the scruff of its neck.

It was so terrified it didn't even make a sound. Alek hesitantly pet the creature, running his fingers through its matted fur. The intelligent, rational part of him, the part of him that had urged him to keep his claim to the throne, told him to put the kitten back and be on his way. The rest of him, the spontaneous, rash parts of him that had sacrificed his nobility for Deryn, told him to rescue this creature from the hell that it had probably known all of its life.

Alek already had a habit of making rash decisions, so he didn't bother giving the matter any more thought. He gently eased the fuzzy creature into his jacket pocket and continued his exploration.

The rest of Block A was uninteresting, except for the purring in Alek's pocket, which he found oddly comforting. There was nothing here that had anything to do with Black Star. He doubled back to the fourth floor, this time following the signs to Block B.

Alek was somehow relieved when he found that the only creatures on floor B5 were a few moths buzzing around a lamp. This floor housed expensive equipment, most of which Alek didn't recognize and probably never would.

By the time Alek reached D5, he was sure that he wasn't going to find a single useful thing. Perhaps there wasn't even anything related to Black Star in the building. Maybe it was a secret project, housed in some concealed laboratory that no one but Sullivan had access to.

Either way, he was running out of time. He wasn't sure how many minutes had passed, but he did know that if he was gone for much longer, Vost would get suspicious, which Alek couldn't afford to let happen.

And then, finally, Alek found something.

The last room on floor D5 was filled with mice in glass cages. At first, Alek thought nothing of it. Perhaps they were being used to test chemicals, like he suspected the cats had been. But then he caught a glimpse of a paper label stuck to one of the glass cages.

In loopy handwriting, the label read: Mus Musculus, age 130 days. Exposed to experimental Black Star chemical gas on 8/1/1915. Organ failure/solidification expected 8/1.

The mouse within the cage was clearly dead. It was also discolored- though the rest of the mice were white, this one was a dusky grey. Alek had a rising suspicion. Reluctantly, he removed the glass cage's top and reached in to touch the creature.

It was cold and hard. It wasn't merley stiff, either. Alek was sure of that. It felt like he had touched a rock. What had Dr. Barlow said about Black Star when she's first mentioned it?

Once inhaled, it forces the muscles to become extremely rigid. The entire body becomes immobile, and eventually internal organs shut down. It could take hours before death. Alek shuddered as he recalled the last thing she'd said. It would be akin to turning into stone.

He was suddenly reminded of his lessons in mythology. When Athena, goddess of war, entered her own temple and saw Poseidon, the god of the sea, ravishing a lovely maiden named Medusa, she grew furious with jealousy. Athena transformed the maiden Medusa into a monster with serpents for hair. Unsatisfied with that, she also made Medusa's face so gruesome that anyone who laid eyes upon her would turn to stone.

What had Athena called the hideous monster she'd made Medusa into? Gorgon.

Alek felt ill. So this was the power of Black Star. And it was up to him to find a way to stop it.

…..

August 4, 1915
Unknown Location

Deryn had expected that she and Sullivan would emerge stealthily into the hall, instantly approaching stone-faced, merciless guards armed to the teeth with dozens of lethal weapons. All right, perhaps that was a tad melodramatic, but she expected one guard at least, dozing off at his post or picking his nose absentmindedly or whatever it was murderous, fab-hating anarchists did when they were bored.

She did not expect the hallway to be completely empty.

"Well that's just pure dead insulting," she muttered under her breath. "I mean, we weren't exactly seasoned combat veterans, but not even one guard? Could they possibly think us that pathetic?"

"I'd simply say that we are lucky," Sullivan interjected. "Or perhaps this so-called 'brigade' has fewer members than we thought. Either way, we haven't time to dawdle."

"Where exactly are we headed?" Deryn asked. She hadn't a clue which direction they should go. Sullivan turned and looked both directions down the long corridor.

"Follow me," he instructed softly. "And stay quiet."

Deryn shook her head. "Aye, I'll stay quiet, but I should go first. Not to offend you, but if we come face-to-face with a guard, I think I may be slightly better equipped to handle him."

Sullivan nodded. "I cannot dissent. I have put on a bit of a paunch recently."

Deryn thought it best not to voice her opinion of that preposterous understatement. She put her back to the wall, motioned for Sullivan to do the same (although his 'paunch' likely defeated the purpose) and began to slink forward slowly towards an open door at her right. It was slightly ajar, but she didn't hear anyone inside. Deryn held out a hand to signal Sullivan to stay put, and poked her head in. The room was blessedly empty. She waved a hand at Sullivan, directing him to follow, and entered.

It seemed to be an office- at least, if Deryn could ignore the enormous mess within. The grey-green wallpaper was peeling horribly. A mass of papers were scattered all about the floor, the desktop was completely covered in old letters and crumpled scraps of correspondence. The drawers were all open, revealing files and more papers inside.

All in all, it was a squick shoddy to say the least.

"Someone was looking for something in a hurry in here," Sullivan observed quietly.

"Did they find it?" Deryn inquired.

"How should I know?" Sullivan responded dolefully, beginning to rifle through some of the papers on the ground.

Deryn followed suit and went to examine the notes on the desk. She shot the boffin a sidelong glance. He didn't seem to notice. She had to wonder what sort of man he was. He'd pretended to be mad, after all. And he'd protected her, many times, distracting Damian with his insane antics to prevent the monster from attacking her. Chester Sullivan wasn't a coward, of that she was sure. The man wasn't a fool, either. He was clever- cunning, certainly. It had been his idea to make a weapon from the porridge spoon. He had noticed Edward's weakness for her. Blisters, he had even planned their escape! He had done all this, and he didn't even know her real name.

And yet, she still had misgivings. This man- the one who had put himself in harm's' way to protect her- was also a merchant of death. He used defenseless animals to create and test chemical weapons. And these weapons didn't simply kill men. Dr. Barlow had said that Black Star tortured them and mutilated their bodies. To Deryn, it was the epitome of cruelty. Not to mention the fact that if Britain didn't buy it, he'd planned to sell it to Germany! To the enemy! All for the sake of profit.

How could a man be both good and evil at the same time? It twisted Deryn's mind.

"What is it?" Sullivan asked, derailing her train of thought. "Have you found something?"

Deryn meant to say "No," but instead she said: "Why did you make Black Star?" The silence that followed was somewhat uncomfortable. "I'm sorry," Deryn apologized. "This isn't the time."

"No, it's all right," Sullivan answered, much to her surprise. "I suppose you believe me an atrocious bastard."

"No," Deryn protested, but Sullivan continued. "I cannot say that I am not a morally flawed person, but I do not think myself a murderer. I've created many chemical weapons. Red star, for example, the chlorine gas that made my company famous. But I created that weapon for a singular reason: I believe in preserving life."

Deryn crossed her arms. "That seems a bit...completely wrong to me."

Sullivan chuckled. "Yes, it does seem backwards now. But my logic behind it was this: if chemical gas, an unbeatable weapon, was used on the battlefield, it would scare soldiers out of their wits. Imagine it. If you were about to go up against something impossible to defeat, like gas, there'd be no point in fighting any longer. My partner, Vost, was a bit more concerned with the profit margins, but then again, he was always in charge of conducting Red Star Chemical's business endeavors. I simply invented the weapon, he did everything else. The marketing and the speaking with investors and such. But I never cared too much about the money. For me, it was preservation of life. The fewer unlucky souls died in this war, the better."

"So you thought that gas would make them surrender," Deryn mused. "I see. So the enemy surrenders, fewer lives are lost to the futility of war, and Britain wins. But it didn't exactly work out that way, did it?"

"Unfortunately not," the boffin sighed. "Red Star was not the unbeatable weapon that I had hoped. It damages the eyes and throat, but the effects are not instantaneous enough or remarkable enough to create the surrender I had hoped for. Death could occur as a result of asphyxiation, but that only took place after prolonged exposure. I needed a weapon that could incapacitate a man quickly, but would also terrify him."

"And what could be more terrifying than the notion of turning to stone?" Deryn asked dryly.

"Indeed," Sullivan agreed. "When I created Black Star, I was fully aware of the monster that I was making. Vost loved it too- the idea of turning a man to stone. Well, I shouldn't say that he loved it. More that he was intrigued by it, and he knew that a weapon so powerful would make Red Star Chemicals exceedingly wealthy."

"Because you could threaten to sell it to the Germans and raise the price," Deryn figured.

"Exactly." Sullivan agreed. "But… I had misgivings about the weapon. We tested it on live subjects- mice- and later I found out that Vost had arranged for a criminal sentenced to hang to be exposed to it. The mice, watching them suffer...it was awful. Watching that man suffer, though…" Sullivan's eyes looked haunted. "I shall never forget the screams of agony he cried, or the way his spine arched and his fingers and toes curled. It was as if he had seen the face of a Gorgon."

He looked at the floor. "The guilt of allowing one man to die such a horrific death was eating at me. And I knew then that I could not allow Black Star to be sold as a weapon of war. It would be too brutal. So I decided to host a gala."

Deryn frowned. "What? The gala was meant to demonstrate Black Star's effects, to convince buyers to pay up."

Sullivan smiled. "That was a ruse. In reality, I intended to announce to the crowd that Black Star was no longer for sale. Not only that, but that I would destroy my research. I planned on destroying every sample of the gas I had left. It was to be a rally towards peace."

Deryn was stunned. "You mean...that night you were going to…"

"Vost wasn't exactly pleased with me, but he understood my position once I explained myself. I've known him for years- he isn't the type to value money over men's lives."

"But you never got to make your announcement," Deryn commented. "No one knows that you planned to destroy Black Star."

Sullivan smiled. "I should hope Vost made a public statement describing Red Star Chemical's plan to destroy the weapon, but I know him too well. He would have been utterly grief-stricken at my abduction. We are like brothers- we've been very close for years. Likely he's so out of sorts that he hasn't even shaved since the party."

Deryn looked down at the desktop. "I should not have judged you so quickly," she apologized.

"It's quite all right," Sullivan smiled, his round, boyish face friendly. "But we haven't the time for such apologies. Let's be on our way, if we aren't going to find anything useful in this room."

"Aye." She agreed, rummaging through the papers atop the desk and feeling a bit ashamed that she hadn't actually done any looking. She gazed at an envelope that had been torn open. It was impossible to determine what had been inside- there was so much clutter she didn't even bother. Not to mention that the paper was so old that it had turned yellow and felt like parchment between her fingers.

But it didn't matter much to her what was inside. What seemed more important was the man the envelope was addressed to.

"Sullivan, you've got to see this," Deryn murmured. Scrawled in messy, loopy handwriting, the name of the letter's sender and the return address were unreadably messy. But the name of the man the letter had been intended for was perfectly legible.

Damian Vost.