Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. All is the property of DC Comics. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.
Artificial Scion
Chapter Four: Palm to Palm
Tim spent a great deal of his final week on Space Lab fashioning a way for himself to sneak into the secret laboratory in the core.
Using the backdoor he'd already set-up for himself, Tim once again hacked into the station's central database and created a fake position for himself. He couldn't use the name 'Alvin Draper' that identity was already in use as maintenance technician. So, from a random name generator he picked out 'Carl Grummet'. 'Carl' he decided was going to be an inspector for Cadmus 'quality control', which was a fancy word they used at Wayne Enterprises for 'making sure smart people didn't make stupid mistakes and fuck-over the city' (or in this case, the planet). That should allow Tim to slip inside the lab -for at least a little while.
Once his new ID was created, Tim had to actually make a keycard for him. That was ever so slightly more difficult, only because it involved the use of real materials and not just soft strings of coding on a computer terminal. Luckily, as a member of the engineering staff, he had access to everything he needed to make a keycard from scratch. The trick was to not arouse suspicion as to why a level 4 tech was requisitioning scrap plastic, blank ID chips, and photo-paper.
"I'm making a scrap book. Scrap booking is cool."
The easy part was molding the plastic to the proper shape and dimensions of an ID card. All cards were basically the same shape, whether they be credit cards, drivers license, hotel room keys, library cards, credit cards, ID badges, etc. Tim could make them in his sleep! (If he were so inclined.)
The tricky part was adding in the chip.
Once that was done, card made, blank chip imbedded and waiting to be written over, Tim inserted his soon-to-be makeshift ID card into the slot on his barrack's terminal. The identity, job, and security clearance he'd already created for himself was loaded onto the chip and suddenly 'Carl Grummet' became a real live person -as far as could be proven on paper on computer.
He took out 'Alvin Draper's color-contacts, deciding to give 'Carl Grummet' Tim Drake's natural blue eyes. Draper's artificially colored hair, however, would have to stay. But Tim gelled and combed it into a different style. A bit of professional grade costume paint -the kind they used in movies- changed his skin tone and added a few distinct facial marks that disassociated him from his other identity. If he'd brought a pair of glasses with him, Tim would have added those too. Prescription glasses were like the civilian equivalent of a cowl. You put them on and suddenly you're a completely different person! But sadly, he did not have the forethought to bring any with him and to steal a pair might raise alarms. That was not what he needed.
So no glasses.
His new look done, Tim took a number head-shots of 'Carl Grummet' and selected the most unassuming one to attach to his new keycard.
The last step was to laminate it all, and voila! He was good to go.
Except he still needed the clothes to look the part. 'Quality control' inspectors didn't really go around wearing maintenance tech uniforms. It was below their pay grade.
...
Westfield and Roquette drifted down the corridor.
The Chairman had not been pleased with the doctor's slow pace through out the project. Their main financial contributor for the Project was becoming impatient. He wanted his weapon and he wanted it sooner rather than later. In his impatience, said benefactor was putting pressure on Westfield to start delivering results. Westfield, in turn, was putting pressure on Roquette to accelerate her pace. The homo-kryptonian hybrid was supposed to have begun his combat readiness testing last week.
"Our partner is becoming restless." He told her, not bothering to mask the irritation in his own voice. "He wants to see a return on his investments."
Roquette brushed an errant strand of blond hair behind her ear and glared back at her employer. "Tell our mysterious financier that he'll get a return when the subject is ready. Not before. You can't rush science. The subject isn't mentally prepared to-"
"Then start preparing him." Westfield said as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.
Roquette grabbed a wall handle to halt her forward momentum. Westfield likewise stopped in a similar fashion, looking bat at her with impatience.
"I have changed project objectives for this, mixed and matched genetic donors, artificially aged the subject, what does our anonymous benefactor want?"
"He wants you to do your job!" Westfield snarled. "You're not the only geneticist in the universe, Roquette. You're not even the only one on Earth. If you can't meet the deadlines set for you, then you will be replaced. Do we understand each other?"
"I understand."
...
Tim was able to swipe a lab suit in his size from the laundry room. A stark white jumpsuit meant to be worn over other clothing with two pockets on the hips and one breast pocket. Lab coats were out. They did about as well in zero G as capes did. Floating about. Getting caught on things. Getting in the way. The scientist of the secret lab in the core wore jumpsuits instead.
He wore the same pair of boots that he did with his tech uniform. They were standard issue spacefarer boots. A pair of ordinary civilian cool weather gloves to prevent his fingerprints being left on anything he might touch. Finally a clip board to complete his look.
Carl Grummet's ID and keycard were pinned to the jumpsuit and Tim was ready to sneak into a lab.
One thing he hated about the zero gravity areas of Space Lab was that every time he walked through a door or a hatch, he had to do a quick paradigm shift to avoid vertigo. There was no one unifying directionality in zero G, so he could walk through a door and then suddenly, the 'floor' would be to his left, the 'ceiling' to his right, and the rest of the walls were 'up' and 'down'. It was enough to make a person dizzy. Luckily, Tim spent enough time tumbling, twisting, and flipping through mid-air that it didn't affect him as badly as it might have another person. But that didn't change the fact that he still felt like the place was designed by Sara Winchester.
God, Tim hated space travel!
But it was usually a safe navigation technique to always orient yourself so that the door you needed to pass through was 'down'. Using this technique and following the schematic he'd pulled from the core's computer, 'Carl Grummet' found his way to the secret lab for his 'quality control' inspection.
A few people looked up from what they were doing when he entered, but he was wearing a lab suit and had an ID badge with a red colored security tag. So, for all they could tell, he belonged there just as much as they did. Most ignored him, turning their attention back to their own work. The few who's gazes lingered, Tim made eye-contact with, offered a friendly smile and wished a good afternoon to.
"I'm here for the inspection." He told them. Tapping his ID badge before putting pencil to clipboard. "I'm just here to observe. Go about your business."
For the most part, they did. Tim drifted into the center of the lab, reorienting himself so that the large two-way mirror of the tank was 'center'. That was when he was him.
A man.
On the other side of the two-way mirror was a man. He looked to be around Tim's own age, maybe a few years younger. Thick and muscular. Ebony black hair. Crystal-blue eyes that seemed to glow with an internal light. Kryptonian eyes. Oh my god!
Tim schooled his features into a blank mask of neutrality. Trying not to show to much interest in the man in the tank, he pushed himself towards the nearest scientist bent over a console. His eyes studied the screen, what looked to be a program mapping out the DNA strand of an alien genotype. But his brain didn't quite register what his eyes were seeing. His brain was still processing what he'd just seen instead. Well, Bruce had sent him up here to find out what Cadmus did with the Kryptonian Ambassador's DNA sample. It looks like he found out.
The man looked almost exactly like the Ambassador! From that rugged cleft in his chin to that ridiculous boyish spit-curl. But that shouldn't be possible. He looked to be Tim's age, maybe a few years younger. Early twenties. Maybe late teens if he was being generous. But Kal-El had donated his gene sample only a few months ago. If Tim was going to find a living person at all, instead of just a spot in a petri dish, he would be an infant, a new born. Not an adult!
"Have you introduced yourself yet?" Asked the man Tim was hovering over.
Tim unclipped his ID from his jumpsuit and shoved it in the man's face, trying to sound as impatient as possible when he said, "Carl Grummet, quality control inspector."
He pushed Tim's hand out of his face and said irritably, "I meant to the subject. New policy is everyone in the lab has to introduce themselves to him. That goes for guests and inspectors too."
Tim was given a light shove, and the next thing he knew, he was drifting across the room towards the two-way mirror and Ambassador Kal-El's artificially engineered son.
Up close, Tim could see the subtle differences between them. From a distance, the younger man looked almost exactly like the Ambassador. He could have been Kal-El's clone rather than his son. But on closer inspection, Tim could see the eyebrows were thinner, the forehead higher, the cheekbones slanted wrong, his lips fuller. The Red Robin couldn't recognize any features as being distinctly Lois' but it was clear that there was some human blood mixed in him. Cadmus had done it. They succeeded and did exactly what they said they would do.
They created a human-kryptonian hybrid.
But why did they age him to physically resemble an adult? They must have used some sort of accelerated growth technique. There was no other way to get a viable, living hybrid in just the few short months Cadmus had the Ambassador's DNA. So, why did they want an adult hybrid?
Tim found the intercomm switch fitted into the glass. He held the button down as he said, "Hello?"
The hybrid drifted over to the two-way mirror and Tim noted that he didn't push off of anything to propel himself in the zero gravity. Kryptonian flight ability, the Red Robin reminded himself and he filed the information away in the back of his mind,not knowing if it would become important or not later. The hybrid pressed his own intercomm button and replied, "Hello."
Okay, what were they supposed to do now? Tim cleared his throat. "I'm Carl Grummet, quality control inspector." He said. "Uh... are they treating you well here?"
Great Timbo, real great. You sound so professional and confident. You won't blow your cover at all.
The hybrid looked confused for a moment and Tim had to wonder if he could see through the glass. Kryptonians were also supposed to have X-ray vision and see through solid objects. A two-way mirror would be nothing. Unless the glass was leaded.
"I guess so." Said the hybrid. "I don't exactly have any other frame of reference to compare it to."
Idiot! Tim found himself resisting the urge to slam his head against the glass. Of course he would think they were treating him well no mater what they did to him because he wouldn't have any concept of anything else! 'This is level one stuff, Tim!' He reminded himself angrily. 'Don't get thrown completely off kilter just because you got one big surprise.'
"Put your hand on the glass." Said the hybrid.
Almost robotically, Tim did as he was told. Placing his gloved palm flat against the two-way mirror. "Okay..."
The hybrid also placed his hand on the glass and Tim could have sworn he felt almost a tremor ripple over the surface. Then the hybrid moved his hand so that it was directly over Tim's. They would be touching palm to palm if the glass weren't in the way and the Red Robin found himself wondering how he'd known that his hand was there without using X-ray vision to see through the glass.
Then he felt something that was almost like another hand brushing against his.
"What the fuck!?" He pushed off the glass and went sailing across the room to be caught my a pair of scientists before he could impact any sensitive equipment. "What the hell was that?"
They all laughed.
"I guess they didn't brief you on the Subject's special ability." Said one.
"He got ya good, didn't he." Commented another. "It is a might unsettling at first."
"Well, go back." Said a third. "Before you hurt his feelings."
Tim found himself once again being pushed towards the tank and the two-way mirror. He placed his palm flat to the glass again and watched the hybrid move his own hand to the new location. This time, Tim did not jump away when he felt what was most definitely another hand press against his palm through the glass. He didn't know what this was, but it certainly wasn't a kryptonian ability.
"Your hand feels weird." Said the hybrid over the intercomm.
With his free hand, Tim held down the button on his own side to reply. "Probably because I'm wearing a glove."
"Oh."
Then, because he couldn't be more than a few months old and never seen the outside of this cell before, Tim asked, "Do you know what a glove is?"
"Yes." The younger man nodded. "They implanted me with knowledge before I became conscious."
Well, that certainly explained why he was able to speak and communicate so clearly. Not many six-month-olds would know the phrase 'frame of reference' or the word 'conscious'. Artificially grown, artificially aged, artificially educated. He was an artificial person and that made Tim sad for some reason, though he did not know why.
Without thinking, he blurted out, "What's your name?"
The hybrid once again blinked in confusion.
"Do you have a name?" Tim amended.
"I..." The hybrid paused, unsure. "I am the only viable, living result of Experiment 13. So... you can call me that. But, Doctor Roquette sometimes calls me 'Kid'. That works too."
"Those aren't names." Tim informed him. He suddenly wondered about this man's parents back on Earth. Kal-El and his human wife, Lois Lane-El. Had they already picked out a name for him? For the faceless, genderless, mystery child they hoped to get. Jeff, if its a boy, and Stacey if its a girl?
Someone coughed behind him and Tim was reminded that he was still supposed to be under cover. He snatched up his clipboard from where it drifted on the air currents near him and made a note. "Right. Well, I'll be sure to report that back to my superiors. Now, lets take a look at the computers. Got to make sure all your files are in order."
They let him poke around the computers for a while. Answered his questions when he asked them and did not try and stop him when Tim got bold enough to pull out his PDA and jack into one of the consoles. They did ask when he began a file download. But he brushed it off as just making sure their files and data lined up with the date they had back at HQ dirt-side. In fact, the mission went perfectly until Roquette entered.
She grabbed a wall handle, stopping dead when she saw someone she didn't recognize bent over one of the lab's computers. "Who are you!?"
Tim remained cool as he flashed her his ID and introduced himself for what was probably the fourth time, "Carl Grummet, quality control inspector." He offered her an apologetic smile. "Just making sure everything's on schedule."
"Schedule!" And her eyes flashed with sudden ire. "You tell that bastard Westfield that he can send all the inspectors and baby-sitters he wants to breath down my neck! But I know my job and this project will flow at the pace I deem necessary. Not any faster! Now get out!"
Tim sputtered helplessly for a moment. That had not been a reaction he expected.
"I said get out!" She repeated, and grabbed Tim by the collar of of jumpsuit to throw him out the still open door.
...
The download of Space Lab's central database was at ninety-eight percent. It was almost complete. By the time Tim had to leave on the shuttle tomorrow, it would be done. He would have completed his mission -all mission objectives- and could return to Gotham.
Gotham. Glorious, wonderful, beautiful, dank, smogy, putrid Gotham. He loved that city. That city on Earth. Firm, solid, supportive mother Earth. Where up was up, down was down, and Tim never had to worry about being sucked out of air-locks, out into the freezing death of space. Earth. He could not wait to get home.
But there was one more thing Red Robin wanted to do before he left.
Once again donning the suit, Tim followed the same secret path he'd used on his first reconnaissance of the secret lab. Only this time, he took an alternate path through the ventilation that wound around to the chamber they kept the hybrid in. Experiment 13. The Kid. Tim didn't like any of those names (and he used that word loosely). He needed a real and proper name. Something-El.
He found a vent that supplied the chamber with fresh air and whispered through the grating, "Can you hear me?" A pause. "Kryptonians are supposed to have super-hearing, if you can hear me, make some motion to acknowledge."
A pair of crystal-blue eyes appeared, staring through the grating at him and Tim jumped. "Jesus!"
"You're not really an inspector, are you?" Experiment 13 whispered.
"No, I'm not." Tim admitted. "I'm a detective working for Batman Inc. Your father hired me to find you."
Okay, so that wasn't exactly true. Kal-El hadn't hire Batman Inc -Batman Inc could not be bought. The Ambassador had just been confiding in his friend Bruce Wayne. Bruce and sent him to find out what Cadmus did with Kal-El's DNA. None of them would have guessed that he would discover a living, talking person!
"My father?" One ebony eyebrow was raised in skepticism. "You mean one of my genetic donors?"
"Yes." Tim agreed. "Your genetic donor is your father. Ambassador Kal-El of Krypton. Do you recognize the name?"
There was a prolonged pause. Then, "Krypton is a planet in the Rao System. It is the home of one of my parent-races. But, I've never heard of anyone named Kal-El."
"Kal-El is your father." Tim informed him, feeling very much like he were acting out a poorly drafted alternate script for The Empire Strikes Back. "He and his human wife gave samples of their DNA to Cadmus hoping to make a child. Cadmus made you. But they cut off communication with your parents, so I was sent to find you."
Experiment 13 was silent for one... two... three beats. Then, finally, "That sounds made-up. Why should I believe you? You've already lied once. I've heard you crawling around in the walls. You seem very suspicious."
Tim paused. Thought. Decided to take a gamble. "Then call security on me if that's the way you feel."
They hybrid continued to stare at him through the ventilation grate. Those crystal-blue eyes boring into him and Tim wondered if he was trying to use his X-ray vision to see under his cowl.
Finally, Experiment 13 said, "What's you name? Your real name."
Tim almost smiled. His gut feeling was right. The Kid wouldn't call security on him. He did want to trust the suspicious masked man hiding in the air ducts. "I can't tell you my real name." He said. "To do my job, I have to hide my identity, that's why I wear a mask. But when I'm in costume, I'm called Red Robin."
"Red Robin..." The hybrid repeated as if testing the name on his tongue. "Put your hand to the grate."
And they repeated the odd palm to palm ceremony from earlier.
...