Prologue
Hong Kong Corporate Exclusion Zone September 22, 2107
There were more guards than usual as Vasili Komorov left his plane, many more guards. There were the usual business-suited guards that were expected to greet a member of the Executive Council, but there were also men in full tactical equipment deployed on the tarmac as well as at intervals along the half-kilometer tunnel that led from the V.I.P. terminal to the airport’s main terminal. Even as his personal protection detail surrounded him, a squad of more heavily armed guards surrounded them. There was palpable tension among the men of the security detail. Komorov made it a point to stand straight to maximize the appearance of his five-foot-seven-inch height and walk at his normal pace. He made a slight adjustment to his gray-streaked brown hair as well. In times of crisis, a leader had to appear calm and unflustered.
At the end of tunnel he was met by Alicia Ross, the highest-ranking executive of the Dynamics Unlimited Corporation’s Hong Kong headquarters. She had her own very substantial security detail surrounding her as Komorov approached. In late middle age, her black hair had just begun to gray, but she stood straight and her posture suggested that she was still quite fit just as it also suggested a state of hyper-alertness. She had the air of a prey animal that knew a predator was nearby. She fell into step at Komorov’s side as he passed her without exchanging pleasantries.
“What is the situation?” Komorov asked.
“Adams and Landynski are dead,” Ross replied. “Since they were both members of the Joint Executive council, they were the primary targets. Randover and Grissman were also killed. Killing them appeared to be an afterthought on the part of the terrorists, however.”
“What precautions have been taken?” Komorov inquired.
“All executives in every exclusion zone have had their security details tripled. All exclusion zones have been locked down and the streets are being cleared of all civilian traffic. The terrorists in Melbourne have been killed, although the security forces that engaged them suffered very heavy losses. The terrorists that perpetrated the attacks here and in Seattle are still at large. You should have diverted to another city.”
“The plane didn’t have enough fuel to reach another exclusion zone, and the Asians refused us clearance to land in at any of their ports,” Komorov replied. “It seems they’re trying to add emphasis to their demands that the Consortium give up our exclusion zones on the Asian mainland.”
“Do they really believe placing you in danger will make us more willing to relinquish those holdings?” Ross replied.
Komorov shook his head. “No, they’re trying to establish dominance before the negotiations begin. That’s why they’re meeting with the Americans before opening negotiations with the Consortium. Reducing tensions with the United States allows them to devote more resources to other areas of interest, including putting more military pressure on the Consortium.”
“Do you think these terrorist attacks are the Asians’ doing?” Ross inquired.
“It’s possible,” Komorov admitted. “But I think it’s unlikely. The Asian leadership knows that negotiating with the Consortium is more profitable than military conflict. A bit of posturing before negotiations is to be expected, but there would be no reason for the Asians to engage in terrorism against the Consortium.”
Reaching the private executive lounge attached to the airport’s main terminal, the leader of the security detail brought the group to a halt. “We’re conducting another sweep of the egress route from the airport, sir,” the detail’s leader said. “It should only take a few minutes.”
Komorov nodded his consent and turned back to Ross. “Do we know anything about these terrorists?” he asked.
“They posted an info-net message calling themselves the ‘Strikeforce for a Free Humanity.’ They seem to be some sort of neo-anarchist group.”
“Anarchist,” Komorov repeated. “So they’re not one of the ultra-nationalist factions?”
“No,” Ross affirmed. “They’ve made threats against all the major governments. They’ve specifically threatened the upcoming summit between the Pan-Asian Homogeny and the United States.”
Komorov nodded. “That would be a very tempting target for anarchists. Since the Consortium is hosting the summit in the Kyoto Exclusion Zone, they could strike three governments at once.”
“Perhaps we should postpone the summit,” Ross proposed.
“I doubt that either the Americans or Asians would agree to that,” Komorov responded. “Neither government would want to appear to be weak.”
A rumbling roar cut off any response Ross might made. The building shook and gunfire could be heard beyond the doorway. Guards quickly surrounded the two executives and herded them back into the tunnel leading to the boarding gate. “What’s happening?” Komorov demanded of the nearest guard.
“Some kind of large-scale attack, sir,” the guard replied as he all but carried Komorov down the tunnel. “There are no details. Our contingency plans call for a retreat back to boarding gate. There will be a vehicle waiting there to take us out of the threat zone.”
With guards holding them by both arms to help them keep up with the detail’s brisk pace, Komorov and Ross were ushered down the tunnel. The plane he had arrived on had been moved and Komorov could see a set of portable stairs where the plane had been. Before allowing him to leave the tunnel, two of the men that were moving Komorov along stopped and allowed two of the armored guards to move ahead and assure that there were no enemies waiting at the tunnel’s entrance. The two armor-equipped guards charged down the steps and were followed quickly by four more guards. Then Komorov felt himself moved forward behind the wall of men and body armor.
As they descended the stairs, a six-wheeled armored car rolled to meet them, its turret-mounted machine gun panning in search of targets. The security detail herded Komorov and Ross toward the vehicle and Komorov could see it only intermittently between the powerfully built bodyguards. Then forward movement suddenly stopped. “It’s not stopping!” someone shouted. Komorov was jerked sideways and tumbled to the ground with one of his protectors on top of him. Something warm and wet splashed into his face. He turned to his left and found Ross’ barely recognizable remains smearing the tarmac along with at least one of her bodyguards. A trail of bloody tire tracks marked the path of the armored car.
One of the guards was shouting into his radio. “The A.P.C. is compromised! We need heavy weapons!” The armored car had turned and was moving back toward Komorov and his defenders, mowing down several guards with its machinegun as it moved. He was dragged to a portable staircase at the tunnel’s entrance, the only cover that was readily at hand. Strong hands forced him to his knees and a guard was holding him by the collar of his suit with one hand while firing a pistol with another. He heard the chatter of fully-automatic gunfire and men screaming. There was more warm wetness on his face and the hand that had been holding him was gone. The armored car was only a few meters away and had turned its machine gun on the portable stairs that were Komorov’s only shelter. His surviving bodyguard shoved Komorov onto his belly. Machine gun bullets passed through the mobile stairs and shattered the concrete around Komorov and his defender but miraculously, none struck them. The armored car moved forward so that the stairs no longer blocked its line of fire. A burst of fire come from its gun and Komorov’s guard jerked and fell atop him, covering him with more warm, viscous fluid. Then there was thunder and heat.
The sound seemed to be almost solid as it rolled over him, and the heat was stinging. There were more hands on him and he could hear barely intelligible words through the ringing in his overtaxed ears. He was being hauled to his feet and pulled toward a standard, truck-like security vehicle parked in front of the now-burning armored car. The newly-arrived vehicle had a wisp of smoke trailing out of the muzzle of a large weapon mounted on its roof. Several more guards had formed a defensive ring around Komorov and the vehicle. He was only feet from the newly-arrived vehicle when more gunfire erupted.
“Contact right and rear!” one of the men who had been helping Komorov toward the car shouted. He turned to the right to see several people armed with an array of weapons charge at the guards with total disregard for their lives. While the other guards engaged the latest threat, the two that were holding him rushed Komorov toward the patrol vehicle. He saw one of his attackers hit three times in the chest with bullets from a guard’s rifle and continue to charge. He was stuffed into the patrol vehicle’s rear seat. The doors locked automatically and it sped away without attempting to retrieve any of the guards that were fighting the terrorists.
The driver had accelerated to maximum speed and ran down two terrorists as he rushed Komorov to safety. Komorov had heard two distinct thumps as the two men were struck and the vehicle shook as one of them fell under the wheels. Through the rear window Komorov saw the two men who had just been run down back up on their feet and attempting to pursue him. One man’s shattered ribs could be seen protruding through his flesh and he was still able to stand. Komorov was still trying to comprehend this when the vehicle rolled to a halt.
“Why are we stopping?” Komorov demanded.
“It’s the team leader, sir,” the driver responded, rolling down the window to speak with his commander, who approached with smile.
“What are the orders, Sir?” The driver asked.
Still smiling, the detail leader shot the driver in the face. Through the bullet-resistant partition that separated the passenger compartment from the crew area, Komorov looked at the leader’s face and did not see the man that had greeted him earlier. The face was the same but there was something else within the eyes and a different cant to the lips. Even the posture was different. The body remained but whatever was controlling it had changed. The lips formed a twisted smile that was unnatural for that face.
An unseen force ripped the rear door from the patrol vehicle. Komorov heard it clang to the ground meters away. The body of the security detail’s leader leaned into the threshold and, still smiling, shot Komorov ten times.
Chapter One
Washington D.C. September 24, 2107
The hearing chamber was already uncomfortably warm despite the fact that the air conditioners were at their highest setting. Aside from the committee members who had already been seated, communications technicians, Secret Service agents, Capitol Police and senatorial staff members had filled the room to its maximum capacity. The sound of dozens of murmured conversations had created a kind of droning static that made the room seem smaller than it actually was. The high humidity gave the air a stifling, almost solid consistency. The hot, humid conditions could make one believe in the exaggerated myth that Washington D.C. had been built on what had once been a swamp.
It was ten o’clock and Douglas Carter and Jeremiah Hicks had already been waiting for two hours. “Take it easy, Doug.” Hicks said. “Things will get started soon.”
“We were told to be here at 0800. The hearing was supposed to start at 0900 and the committee members are just getting here,” Carter said. “You weren’t supposed to testify until 1300. It looks like we’ll be here all day, Sir.”
“Well, we have to be here when the senators call for us,” Hicks replied. “They’re senators; they’re allowed to be late.”
“It shows a lack of discipline, sir,” Carter replied, rising from his chair and beginning to pace. “They can’t show up on time for a hearing that they called for, but they’re supposedly competent to lead the country.”
“You’re just pissed because I made you come with me to their little inquisition,” Hicks said, pointing a finger at Carter in friendly accusation.
“Why am I here, sir?” Carter asked, passing a hand through his short brown hair. “I’m haven’t been called to testify.”
“No, but I have,” Hicks answered. “When the supporters of the G.R.A. start asking me about how paranormals are too dangerous to be allowed to live with the normal human population, I want them to see you, the paranormal who saved the world from a lethal global pandemic and smashed the World Central Authority’s command headquarters sitting behind me. I want them to have to look you in the eye and tell the world that you can’t be trusted not to run amok if you were to leave the military. If the G.R.A. passes, the paranormal troops from our allied nations will be subjected to the same conditions as American paranormals. A treaty with the allied governments has already been drawn up. Those governments are just waiting to see what happens here in the U.S.”
A frown came to Carter’s struggle-hardened face. His entire six-foot-three-inch frame stiffened. “I don’t know,” he said. “The team didn’t stop D’Avella and his friends from dispersing some of that bio-weapon, and a lot of people died because I failed. I’m not sure if selling me as a hero is the way to go.”
“Firstly, you didn’t fail on that mission,” Hicks retorted. “There was no way you could have gotten to that island in time to stop those G.R.E.E.N. conspiracy bastards from launching the first part of that bio-attack. If you hadn’t stopped them from launching the rest of it and captured the vaccine for the virus they were using, it would have wiped out most of the human race.
“And I’m not selling you as a hero. I’m presenting you as what you are: a loyal, brave and damned effective soldier who happens to be a paranormal. If the G.R.A. is passed, it’ll turn American paranormals into wards of the State, along with the paranormals serving in the F.N.F. They’re trying to justify doing that by saying that the abilities that the paragene gives paranormals make you too dangerous to live among the general public. They want to keep paranormals in government service so they can control them. They’ve been ginning up fear of paranormals in the public to get public support for the G.R.A. You’re living proof that paranormals aren’t a threat to the general public.”
Carter shook his head. “The G.R.A.,” he repeated. “the Genetic Resources Act. Genetic resources? It makes us sound like lumps of coal they’re shoveling into a furnace. The way the act is written is brilliantly convoluted. First it says that paranormals are too dangerous to be let out of government control, then it says we’re a treasured natural resource. The damn thing is two-hundred fifty-six pages long and not once does it refer to paranormals as people. There’s even a provision that gives the government to regulate who paranormals reproduce with. Paranormals would have to get a damned permit to have kids. The document says that paranormals would be wards of the State, but what it really means that we’d all be a bunch of warrior-slaves.”
“That’s why we’re here to fight it, Doug,” Hicks said. “With your record and background, I don’t think they can reasonably accuse you of being a menace to society.”
Carter shrugged. “That business in Hong Kong and the other exclusion zones didn’t help us, though,” he replied. “Is there any intel on how those terrorists got their paragenes activated?”
The general shook his head. “None of the other major powers have admitted to activating the terrorists’ paragenes. The United States was the first to learn how to detect and activate paragenes, but we know the Euros and the Corporate Consortium can do it now, too, although the Consortium won’t admit it. The Asians have probably figured the process out as well, but we have no hard intel about that. The thing is that none of the major powers have anything to gain from pissing off the Consortium right now. The Strikeforce for a Free Humanity claims to be an anarchist group and not aligned with any government. I’m betting that questions about the attacks in Seattle, Melbourne and Hong Kong will be the first thing they hit Doctor Atkinson with at the hearing.”
“If they ever start the hearing,” Carter growled.
Hicks chuckled. “Just remember that the vote on the G.R.A. can go either way right now. Patience and calm are the orders of the day.”
“I’ll be the soul of discretion, sir.” Carter assured the general. “Until it’s time not to be.”
***
Doctor Philip Atkinson seemed almost too calm as he took his seat before the Senate committee. Rather than being intimidated or contrite, he seemed defiant. He wore a gray leisure suit with no tie and his thinning gray hair was in slight disarray. His eyes panned over the assembled senators in an almost predatory fashion. Unlike most of the other people who had been summoned to testify about the Genetic Resources Act, he carried no briefcase, electronic device or notes. He confronted the senators with the confidence of a man who was sure that he was the smartest person in the room.
Watching the proceedings from the waiting area on a large video monitor, Hicks and Carter regarded the doctor with not a little amusement and concern. “It looks like he just got here,” Carter observed.
“He probably did,” Hicks agreed. “Atkinson always liked to do things in his own way and his own time. He’s the man who discovered the paragene and how to activate it. He knows more about it than anyone alive and, since this hearing is all about people who have the gene, he probably figured that they wouldn’t start without him.”
“He looks annoyed,” Carter said.
“He is,” Hicks confirmed. “I’ve talked to him about the G.R.A. and he thinks it’s complete bullshit. To quote him exactly: ‘The G.R.A. is the product of fear-crazed, addled minds with no more grasp of genetics or evolutionary theory than the average paramecium.’ The idea of his being forced to appear before the ‘addled minds’ of the Senate and try to explain anything about science to them undoubtedly pisses him off no end.”
“He’s an arrogant bastard,” Carter said. “I still remember when he activated the gene for Red Team. He treated us like bunch of white mice.”
“He wasn’t too fond of you, either,” the general said, “because you wouldn’t let him treat your team like white mice. His face actually turned red when you insisted that Red Team go through the activation process together and not in separate rooms. One of the mice was telling him how to do his job.”
“It may have been his experiment, but it was my team,” Carter replied.
Hicks chuckled. “Yeah. He may not be the nicest guy in the world, but he’s the leading expert on the paragene and he’s on our side about the G.R.A.”
Carter used the remote control to increase the volume of the audio feed from the hearing chamber. “It looks like they’re finally getting started.”
On the monitor, Carter and Hicks looked on as Senator Walter O’Connor, chairman of the Senate Committee on Scientific Development, greeted the doctor. “Hello, Doctor. Thank you for finally joining us.” O’Connor waited briefly for Atkinson to return his greeting. The doctor remained silent.
After an aggravated grunt, the senator went on. “Doctor, before we hear your testimony on the Genetic Resources Act, I would like to hear your thoughts on the recent attacks by paranormal terrorists in the Hong Kong, Seattle, and Melbourne Corporate Exclusion Zones. Specifically, I would like to know if you have any theories concerning how the paranormals involved were able to have their paragenes activated.”
Atkinson cocked his head to one side and almost smiled. “There is no need to theorize, Senator. I know precisely how those individual’s paragenes were activated.”
“Then please tell us, Doctor,” the senator pressed.
“It’s simple, really,” Atkinson said, smiling thinly. “I provided the Strikeforce for a Free Humanity with the processes for detecting and activating the paragene.”
There were several moments of stunned silence in the chamber, followed by an outbreak of near-chaos as the chamber was filled with shouted questions and accusations. Watching the monitor, Carter and Hicks also looked at each other in the same stunned silence. “Oh, shit.” Carter said, finally.
Hick sucked in a long breath. “Jesus. Atkinson shot the shit into the fan with a cannon.”
“Thank God this hearing is closed to the public,” Carter said. “If word gets out that Atkinson gave the paragene process to terrorists, people will be seeing super-terrorists behind ever tree and rock.”
“They’ve got things settled down a bit. Atkinson’s speaking again,” Hicks said, watching on the monitor as the doctor sat calmly and enjoyed the impact of his revelation on the senators and crowd.
“Doctor,” O’Connor said, nearly shouting. “You do realize you’ve just confessed to a crime, a serious crime?”
Atkinson seemed even more smug than he had before. “Then let me confirm my guilt,” he said with annoying calm. “Not only did I give the secret to activating the paragenes to the S.F.H., I have placed that information, freely available, on the public information networks of the United States, the European Union, the Pan-Asian Homogeny, and the Corporate Consortium. It has been uploaded under hundreds of filenames, formats and encryption methods. I have also sent copies of all the data, on portable storage devices, to certain associates who copied it to other devices so as to distribute them as widely as possible. It will be virtually impossible to purge the information in all of its forms from all of the networks and confiscate the physical copies of the data. The genie, so to speak is out of the bottle. Or, if you prefer, Pandora’s Box has been opened.”
O’Connor’s face had turned a pasty white. “Why? Why did you do this?” he asked, fighting for breath. “Do you understand what you’ve turned loose?”
Atkinson laughed. “I understand what I have set free far better that you or any of your barely-literate colleagues possibly could. What I have ‘turned loose,’ Senator, is human evolution. I have begun a revolution of evolution.”
“You sound as though you agree with those scientific maniacs of the G.R.E.E.N. Conspiracy, the murderers of hundreds of thousands of innocent people,” O’Connor said, his anger starting to overcome his shock at Atkinson’s disclosure.
Atkinson allowed himself an uncharacteristic chuckle. “Agree with the G.R.E.E.N. Conspiracy, senator? My good man, I founded the G.R.E.E.N. Conspiracy.”
***
The ill-fitting bright orange jumpsuit and the handcuffs he wore had done nothing to shake Atkinson’s calm demeanor. In the two days since his appearance before the Senate, Atkinson had endured extensive interrogation concerning his release of the paragene activation process and his knowledge of the G.R.E.E.N. Conspiracy. While he did seem fatigued, he remained defiantly arrogant. He retained his signature conceited, self-assured smirk. He did not have the demeanor of prisoner. It was clear to Hicks, looking at the doctor from the other side of the Plexiglas divider of the prison’s visiting area, that the doctor believed that he was in control of his situation.
Hicks settled into a chair that was bolted to the floor and donned a communications headset connected to the visiting room’s intercom system. “You wanted to see me.” Hicks said.
Atkinson nodded. “Yes, general. There are things that I want you to know.”
“All right,” Hicks said. “I’m here. But what are you going to tell me that you didn’t tell your interrogators?”
“Oh, I told them everything they wanted to know,” Atkinson said. “I’ve given them the names of all of my remaining associates. I also gave them details of our facilities and organization. None of that matters now that the paragene’s secrets are in the open. But you were with me from the beginning of the ‘Seed Corn’ Project as we learned about the paragene and how to develop it. You, more than any other person alive, understand the potential of paranormals. You are a man of at least acceptable intelligence, unlike those dullards that the people of the United States seem compelled to elect to high office. I wanted you to understand why I’ve done what I have done. I want you to make Colonel Carter and the other paranormals understand.”
“Then why didn’t you ask to see Colonel Carter?” Hicks asked.
“It is quite clear that the colonel dislikes me,” Atkinson replied. “And, as I’ve said, you and I were there from the beginning of the development of the paragene program. You, better than anyone else, understand that paranormals are the future of mankind.”
“I think you’ve misjudged me, doctor,” Hicks countered. “Paranormals are certainly a part of the future, a big part, but the future doesn’t belong to them alone.”
“But it does,” Atkinson disagreed. “I’ve seen to it.”
Hicks cocked his head. “I thought that was what releasing that bio-weapon of yours was all about, killing almost all normal humans and leaving paranormals as the dominant species on earth, ruled over by you and your hyper-intellectual cronies, of course. It’s ironic that it was a group of paranormals that put a stop to that plan.”
“Ironic, yes,” Atkinson said. “But not entirely unexpected. The paranormals that comprised F.I.R.E. teams Alpha and Bravo used their superior abilities to thwart our plans. So in a way, it proves the point that my associates and myself were trying to make. After all, it would have been impossible for normal human beings to have stopped the complete deployment of our biological agent.”
“But the deployment of your weapon was stopped. How can you say that you have assured the future?” Hicks pressed.
Atkinson smiled thinly. “I’m sure you already reasoned that out, General.”
“Humor me.” Hicks insisted.
“Very well,” Atkinson consented. “Consider the acronym, General. G-R-E-E-N, the Genetic Research Accelerated Evolution Network. The initial aim to reduce the normal human population of Earth to free up living space and resources for use by paranormals would have accelerated human evolution to a greater degree than what I have recently done. But by making the technique for activating the paragene freely available, I have assured that those without the gene will eventually be eliminated through natural selection. Eventually being a paranormal will become normal.”
“Granted,” Hicks said. “You’ve created one hell of a shit storm by giving the activation process away, but the expertise and equipment needed to make use of that information isn’t exactly common.”
Atkinson eyes took on a glimmer. “It’s true that it takes a certain degree of skill in genetic engineering to make use of the information I disseminated, but the equipment can be found in even a moderately well-equipped genetics laboratory. While it took years of research to discover the paragene and even more years of work to develop the processes with which to activate it, with the proper instructions, any reasonably competent geneticist can perform the activation process. There is no stopping the proliferation of the paragene throughout the population.”
“I expect that the skill set to activate the gene will still be pretty rare,” Hicks countered. "How many genetic scientists out there aren’t working for a government?”
Atkinson’s face almost beamed with glee as he replied to Hicks’ question. “It’s true that even reasonably competent genetic scientists are relatively rare, but that will not matter.”
Hick’s chest tightened as he asked his next question. “Why is that?”
“You are, of course, familiar with Laurel and Wilbur Marsden,” Atkinson said, looking like a hunter watching a carefully-laid trap about to be sprung.
“They’re sergeants from the P.A.Cs Second Regimental Combat Team. They’re expecting a baby in a few months.” Hicks now realized that he was being led to another profound revelation.
Atkinson smile became menacingly mischievous as he saw comprehension come slowly to Hicks. “That’s correct. Their child will be the first born to parents who are both activated paranormals. In my capacity as the foremost authority on the paragene, I am predicting that that child will be a paranormal and that it will be born with its paranormal abilities already active.”
“Which means that there will be paranormal children being born all over the planet very soon,” Hicks said.
“Not only that,” Atkinson said. “The paragene, once activated, is dominant trait. This, of course, means that even when only one parent is an active paranormal, there is a high probability that the offspring will also be paranormal.”
“God in heaven,” Hicks said. “People will go insane when this gets out.”
“No doubt,” Atkins agreed with a shrug. “Keep in mind that paranormals will have more opportunities to breed than normal humans simply because of their superior traits. Consider, General. In all of your extensive contact with paranormals, have you ever encountered a paranormal who wasn’t physically attractive?”
Hicks nodded almost involuntarily, recalling a young trooper in P.A.C. who had had severe psoriasis prior to having his gene activated and whose skin became flawless after the activation process. He also knew that because of the changes to the metabolism that occurred during the activation process, it was nearly impossible for paranormals to become obese. Possessing an immune system many times more efficient than non-paranormals made paranormals healthier, generally, than the normal human population and, Hicks had to admit, much more physically attractive on average that the bulk of the human population.
Noting Hick’s reluctant agreement, Atkinson continued. “That attractiveness, combined with more than normal human fertility and an average lifespan of three hundred years, means that the paragene will make its way into the gene pool at what could conceivably be an exponential rate. It can’t be stopped now, General. In only a few generations, people with active paragenes will be commonplace. The only reason no paranormal children have been born until now is that potential parents were in military service and had elected to delay procreating until the Sovereignty War ended. In a thousand years, mere normals will be an anomaly.”
“My God,” Hicks said. “Do you know what you’ve done? You thought the G.R.A. was oppressive? After what you’ve done, people will be seeing paranormal boogie-men in every shadow and under every bed. You may have just started a global race war.”
“I doubt that,” Atkinson said. “The governmental leaders may not be particularly bright, but they’re very pragmatic when it comes to their personal survival and maintaining their political power. The G.R.A. will not be passed in light of my revelations.”
“They’ll probably pass something worse,” Hicks growled.
“Again, I doubt that,” Atkinson said. “Consider it from a politician’s perspective. If you were confronted by the fact that there were paranormal individuals in the service, not only of governments other than your own but also in the service of terrorists and criminal organizations that are openly and vehemently opposed to your political agenda and possibly hostile to you personally, would you alienate and antagonize the one group of paranormals that are sworn to protect you? Would you want to breed ill will in the one military force capable of meeting a potential paranormal threat on an equal basis? Would you want them to teach their superior offspring to view you as an enemy? I have made the Paranormal Army Command virtually indispensable, and because they’re indispensable, they now have a great deal of negotiating power.”
Hicks took a deep calming breath. “Have you told anyone that the Marsden baby will have an active paragene? Have you told people that paranormal babies will all have active genes?”
Atkinson nodded. “I wanted you to be the first to know about the Marsden child. As to the fact of the paragene’s dominance, that information was uploaded and otherwise distributed at the same time as the activation process, but time delayed to be released in… what time is it now?”
Hicks looked at his watch. “Zero-eight fifty-five,” he said.
Atkinson smiled again. “The new revelation will become available worldwide in five minutes.”
“You’re insane, doctor,” Hicks said, his eyes boring into the doctor’s.
“Oh no, General,” the doctor countered. “I’m quite sane, and I’ve only just begun.”
Hong Kong Corporate Exclusion Zone September 22, 2107
There were more guards than usual as Vasili Komorov left his plane, many more guards. There were the usual business-suited guards that were expected to greet a member of the Executive Council, but there were also men in full tactical equipment deployed on the tarmac as well as at intervals along the half-kilometer tunnel that led from the V.I.P. terminal to the airport’s main terminal. Even as his personal protection detail surrounded him, a squad of more heavily armed guards surrounded them. There was palpable tension among the men of the security detail. Komorov made it a point to stand straight to maximize the appearance of his five-foot-seven-inch height and walk at his normal pace. He made a slight adjustment to his gray-streaked brown hair as well. In times of crisis, a leader had to appear calm and unflustered.
At the end of tunnel he was met by Alicia Ross, the highest-ranking executive of the Dynamics Unlimited Corporation’s Hong Kong headquarters. She had her own very substantial security detail surrounding her as Komorov approached. In late middle age, her black hair had just begun to gray, but she stood straight and her posture suggested that she was still quite fit just as it also suggested a state of hyper-alertness. She had the air of a prey animal that knew a predator was nearby. She fell into step at Komorov’s side as he passed her without exchanging pleasantries.
“What is the situation?” Komorov asked.
“Adams and Landynski are dead,” Ross replied. “Since they were both members of the Joint Executive council, they were the primary targets. Randover and Grissman were also killed. Killing them appeared to be an afterthought on the part of the terrorists, however.”
“What precautions have been taken?” Komorov inquired.
“All executives in every exclusion zone have had their security details tripled. All exclusion zones have been locked down and the streets are being cleared of all civilian traffic. The terrorists in Melbourne have been killed, although the security forces that engaged them suffered very heavy losses. The terrorists that perpetrated the attacks here and in Seattle are still at large. You should have diverted to another city.”
“The plane didn’t have enough fuel to reach another exclusion zone, and the Asians refused us clearance to land in at any of their ports,” Komorov replied. “It seems they’re trying to add emphasis to their demands that the Consortium give up our exclusion zones on the Asian mainland.”
“Do they really believe placing you in danger will make us more willing to relinquish those holdings?” Ross replied.
Komorov shook his head. “No, they’re trying to establish dominance before the negotiations begin. That’s why they’re meeting with the Americans before opening negotiations with the Consortium. Reducing tensions with the United States allows them to devote more resources to other areas of interest, including putting more military pressure on the Consortium.”
“Do you think these terrorist attacks are the Asians’ doing?” Ross inquired.
“It’s possible,” Komorov admitted. “But I think it’s unlikely. The Asian leadership knows that negotiating with the Consortium is more profitable than military conflict. A bit of posturing before negotiations is to be expected, but there would be no reason for the Asians to engage in terrorism against the Consortium.”
Reaching the private executive lounge attached to the airport’s main terminal, the leader of the security detail brought the group to a halt. “We’re conducting another sweep of the egress route from the airport, sir,” the detail’s leader said. “It should only take a few minutes.”
Komorov nodded his consent and turned back to Ross. “Do we know anything about these terrorists?” he asked.
“They posted an info-net message calling themselves the ‘Strikeforce for a Free Humanity.’ They seem to be some sort of neo-anarchist group.”
“Anarchist,” Komorov repeated. “So they’re not one of the ultra-nationalist factions?”
“No,” Ross affirmed. “They’ve made threats against all the major governments. They’ve specifically threatened the upcoming summit between the Pan-Asian Homogeny and the United States.”
Komorov nodded. “That would be a very tempting target for anarchists. Since the Consortium is hosting the summit in the Kyoto Exclusion Zone, they could strike three governments at once.”
“Perhaps we should postpone the summit,” Ross proposed.
“I doubt that either the Americans or Asians would agree to that,” Komorov responded. “Neither government would want to appear to be weak.”
A rumbling roar cut off any response Ross might made. The building shook and gunfire could be heard beyond the doorway. Guards quickly surrounded the two executives and herded them back into the tunnel leading to the boarding gate. “What’s happening?” Komorov demanded of the nearest guard.
“Some kind of large-scale attack, sir,” the guard replied as he all but carried Komorov down the tunnel. “There are no details. Our contingency plans call for a retreat back to boarding gate. There will be a vehicle waiting there to take us out of the threat zone.”
With guards holding them by both arms to help them keep up with the detail’s brisk pace, Komorov and Ross were ushered down the tunnel. The plane he had arrived on had been moved and Komorov could see a set of portable stairs where the plane had been. Before allowing him to leave the tunnel, two of the men that were moving Komorov along stopped and allowed two of the armored guards to move ahead and assure that there were no enemies waiting at the tunnel’s entrance. The two armor-equipped guards charged down the steps and were followed quickly by four more guards. Then Komorov felt himself moved forward behind the wall of men and body armor.
As they descended the stairs, a six-wheeled armored car rolled to meet them, its turret-mounted machine gun panning in search of targets. The security detail herded Komorov and Ross toward the vehicle and Komorov could see it only intermittently between the powerfully built bodyguards. Then forward movement suddenly stopped. “It’s not stopping!” someone shouted. Komorov was jerked sideways and tumbled to the ground with one of his protectors on top of him. Something warm and wet splashed into his face. He turned to his left and found Ross’ barely recognizable remains smearing the tarmac along with at least one of her bodyguards. A trail of bloody tire tracks marked the path of the armored car.
One of the guards was shouting into his radio. “The A.P.C. is compromised! We need heavy weapons!” The armored car had turned and was moving back toward Komorov and his defenders, mowing down several guards with its machinegun as it moved. He was dragged to a portable staircase at the tunnel’s entrance, the only cover that was readily at hand. Strong hands forced him to his knees and a guard was holding him by the collar of his suit with one hand while firing a pistol with another. He heard the chatter of fully-automatic gunfire and men screaming. There was more warm wetness on his face and the hand that had been holding him was gone. The armored car was only a few meters away and had turned its machine gun on the portable stairs that were Komorov’s only shelter. His surviving bodyguard shoved Komorov onto his belly. Machine gun bullets passed through the mobile stairs and shattered the concrete around Komorov and his defender but miraculously, none struck them. The armored car moved forward so that the stairs no longer blocked its line of fire. A burst of fire come from its gun and Komorov’s guard jerked and fell atop him, covering him with more warm, viscous fluid. Then there was thunder and heat.
The sound seemed to be almost solid as it rolled over him, and the heat was stinging. There were more hands on him and he could hear barely intelligible words through the ringing in his overtaxed ears. He was being hauled to his feet and pulled toward a standard, truck-like security vehicle parked in front of the now-burning armored car. The newly-arrived vehicle had a wisp of smoke trailing out of the muzzle of a large weapon mounted on its roof. Several more guards had formed a defensive ring around Komorov and the vehicle. He was only feet from the newly-arrived vehicle when more gunfire erupted.
“Contact right and rear!” one of the men who had been helping Komorov toward the car shouted. He turned to the right to see several people armed with an array of weapons charge at the guards with total disregard for their lives. While the other guards engaged the latest threat, the two that were holding him rushed Komorov toward the patrol vehicle. He saw one of his attackers hit three times in the chest with bullets from a guard’s rifle and continue to charge. He was stuffed into the patrol vehicle’s rear seat. The doors locked automatically and it sped away without attempting to retrieve any of the guards that were fighting the terrorists.
The driver had accelerated to maximum speed and ran down two terrorists as he rushed Komorov to safety. Komorov had heard two distinct thumps as the two men were struck and the vehicle shook as one of them fell under the wheels. Through the rear window Komorov saw the two men who had just been run down back up on their feet and attempting to pursue him. One man’s shattered ribs could be seen protruding through his flesh and he was still able to stand. Komorov was still trying to comprehend this when the vehicle rolled to a halt.
“Why are we stopping?” Komorov demanded.
“It’s the team leader, sir,” the driver responded, rolling down the window to speak with his commander, who approached with smile.
“What are the orders, Sir?” The driver asked.
Still smiling, the detail leader shot the driver in the face. Through the bullet-resistant partition that separated the passenger compartment from the crew area, Komorov looked at the leader’s face and did not see the man that had greeted him earlier. The face was the same but there was something else within the eyes and a different cant to the lips. Even the posture was different. The body remained but whatever was controlling it had changed. The lips formed a twisted smile that was unnatural for that face.
An unseen force ripped the rear door from the patrol vehicle. Komorov heard it clang to the ground meters away. The body of the security detail’s leader leaned into the threshold and, still smiling, shot Komorov ten times.
Chapter One
Washington D.C. September 24, 2107
The hearing chamber was already uncomfortably warm despite the fact that the air conditioners were at their highest setting. Aside from the committee members who had already been seated, communications technicians, Secret Service agents, Capitol Police and senatorial staff members had filled the room to its maximum capacity. The sound of dozens of murmured conversations had created a kind of droning static that made the room seem smaller than it actually was. The high humidity gave the air a stifling, almost solid consistency. The hot, humid conditions could make one believe in the exaggerated myth that Washington D.C. had been built on what had once been a swamp.
It was ten o’clock and Douglas Carter and Jeremiah Hicks had already been waiting for two hours. “Take it easy, Doug.” Hicks said. “Things will get started soon.”
“We were told to be here at 0800. The hearing was supposed to start at 0900 and the committee members are just getting here,” Carter said. “You weren’t supposed to testify until 1300. It looks like we’ll be here all day, Sir.”
“Well, we have to be here when the senators call for us,” Hicks replied. “They’re senators; they’re allowed to be late.”
“It shows a lack of discipline, sir,” Carter replied, rising from his chair and beginning to pace. “They can’t show up on time for a hearing that they called for, but they’re supposedly competent to lead the country.”
“You’re just pissed because I made you come with me to their little inquisition,” Hicks said, pointing a finger at Carter in friendly accusation.
“Why am I here, sir?” Carter asked, passing a hand through his short brown hair. “I’m haven’t been called to testify.”
“No, but I have,” Hicks answered. “When the supporters of the G.R.A. start asking me about how paranormals are too dangerous to be allowed to live with the normal human population, I want them to see you, the paranormal who saved the world from a lethal global pandemic and smashed the World Central Authority’s command headquarters sitting behind me. I want them to have to look you in the eye and tell the world that you can’t be trusted not to run amok if you were to leave the military. If the G.R.A. passes, the paranormal troops from our allied nations will be subjected to the same conditions as American paranormals. A treaty with the allied governments has already been drawn up. Those governments are just waiting to see what happens here in the U.S.”
A frown came to Carter’s struggle-hardened face. His entire six-foot-three-inch frame stiffened. “I don’t know,” he said. “The team didn’t stop D’Avella and his friends from dispersing some of that bio-weapon, and a lot of people died because I failed. I’m not sure if selling me as a hero is the way to go.”
“Firstly, you didn’t fail on that mission,” Hicks retorted. “There was no way you could have gotten to that island in time to stop those G.R.E.E.N. conspiracy bastards from launching the first part of that bio-attack. If you hadn’t stopped them from launching the rest of it and captured the vaccine for the virus they were using, it would have wiped out most of the human race.
“And I’m not selling you as a hero. I’m presenting you as what you are: a loyal, brave and damned effective soldier who happens to be a paranormal. If the G.R.A. is passed, it’ll turn American paranormals into wards of the State, along with the paranormals serving in the F.N.F. They’re trying to justify doing that by saying that the abilities that the paragene gives paranormals make you too dangerous to live among the general public. They want to keep paranormals in government service so they can control them. They’ve been ginning up fear of paranormals in the public to get public support for the G.R.A. You’re living proof that paranormals aren’t a threat to the general public.”
Carter shook his head. “The G.R.A.,” he repeated. “the Genetic Resources Act. Genetic resources? It makes us sound like lumps of coal they’re shoveling into a furnace. The way the act is written is brilliantly convoluted. First it says that paranormals are too dangerous to be let out of government control, then it says we’re a treasured natural resource. The damn thing is two-hundred fifty-six pages long and not once does it refer to paranormals as people. There’s even a provision that gives the government to regulate who paranormals reproduce with. Paranormals would have to get a damned permit to have kids. The document says that paranormals would be wards of the State, but what it really means that we’d all be a bunch of warrior-slaves.”
“That’s why we’re here to fight it, Doug,” Hicks said. “With your record and background, I don’t think they can reasonably accuse you of being a menace to society.”
Carter shrugged. “That business in Hong Kong and the other exclusion zones didn’t help us, though,” he replied. “Is there any intel on how those terrorists got their paragenes activated?”
The general shook his head. “None of the other major powers have admitted to activating the terrorists’ paragenes. The United States was the first to learn how to detect and activate paragenes, but we know the Euros and the Corporate Consortium can do it now, too, although the Consortium won’t admit it. The Asians have probably figured the process out as well, but we have no hard intel about that. The thing is that none of the major powers have anything to gain from pissing off the Consortium right now. The Strikeforce for a Free Humanity claims to be an anarchist group and not aligned with any government. I’m betting that questions about the attacks in Seattle, Melbourne and Hong Kong will be the first thing they hit Doctor Atkinson with at the hearing.”
“If they ever start the hearing,” Carter growled.
Hicks chuckled. “Just remember that the vote on the G.R.A. can go either way right now. Patience and calm are the orders of the day.”
“I’ll be the soul of discretion, sir.” Carter assured the general. “Until it’s time not to be.”
***
Doctor Philip Atkinson seemed almost too calm as he took his seat before the Senate committee. Rather than being intimidated or contrite, he seemed defiant. He wore a gray leisure suit with no tie and his thinning gray hair was in slight disarray. His eyes panned over the assembled senators in an almost predatory fashion. Unlike most of the other people who had been summoned to testify about the Genetic Resources Act, he carried no briefcase, electronic device or notes. He confronted the senators with the confidence of a man who was sure that he was the smartest person in the room.
Watching the proceedings from the waiting area on a large video monitor, Hicks and Carter regarded the doctor with not a little amusement and concern. “It looks like he just got here,” Carter observed.
“He probably did,” Hicks agreed. “Atkinson always liked to do things in his own way and his own time. He’s the man who discovered the paragene and how to activate it. He knows more about it than anyone alive and, since this hearing is all about people who have the gene, he probably figured that they wouldn’t start without him.”
“He looks annoyed,” Carter said.
“He is,” Hicks confirmed. “I’ve talked to him about the G.R.A. and he thinks it’s complete bullshit. To quote him exactly: ‘The G.R.A. is the product of fear-crazed, addled minds with no more grasp of genetics or evolutionary theory than the average paramecium.’ The idea of his being forced to appear before the ‘addled minds’ of the Senate and try to explain anything about science to them undoubtedly pisses him off no end.”
“He’s an arrogant bastard,” Carter said. “I still remember when he activated the gene for Red Team. He treated us like bunch of white mice.”
“He wasn’t too fond of you, either,” the general said, “because you wouldn’t let him treat your team like white mice. His face actually turned red when you insisted that Red Team go through the activation process together and not in separate rooms. One of the mice was telling him how to do his job.”
“It may have been his experiment, but it was my team,” Carter replied.
Hicks chuckled. “Yeah. He may not be the nicest guy in the world, but he’s the leading expert on the paragene and he’s on our side about the G.R.A.”
Carter used the remote control to increase the volume of the audio feed from the hearing chamber. “It looks like they’re finally getting started.”
On the monitor, Carter and Hicks looked on as Senator Walter O’Connor, chairman of the Senate Committee on Scientific Development, greeted the doctor. “Hello, Doctor. Thank you for finally joining us.” O’Connor waited briefly for Atkinson to return his greeting. The doctor remained silent.
After an aggravated grunt, the senator went on. “Doctor, before we hear your testimony on the Genetic Resources Act, I would like to hear your thoughts on the recent attacks by paranormal terrorists in the Hong Kong, Seattle, and Melbourne Corporate Exclusion Zones. Specifically, I would like to know if you have any theories concerning how the paranormals involved were able to have their paragenes activated.”
Atkinson cocked his head to one side and almost smiled. “There is no need to theorize, Senator. I know precisely how those individual’s paragenes were activated.”
“Then please tell us, Doctor,” the senator pressed.
“It’s simple, really,” Atkinson said, smiling thinly. “I provided the Strikeforce for a Free Humanity with the processes for detecting and activating the paragene.”
There were several moments of stunned silence in the chamber, followed by an outbreak of near-chaos as the chamber was filled with shouted questions and accusations. Watching the monitor, Carter and Hicks also looked at each other in the same stunned silence. “Oh, shit.” Carter said, finally.
Hick sucked in a long breath. “Jesus. Atkinson shot the shit into the fan with a cannon.”
“Thank God this hearing is closed to the public,” Carter said. “If word gets out that Atkinson gave the paragene process to terrorists, people will be seeing super-terrorists behind ever tree and rock.”
“They’ve got things settled down a bit. Atkinson’s speaking again,” Hicks said, watching on the monitor as the doctor sat calmly and enjoyed the impact of his revelation on the senators and crowd.
“Doctor,” O’Connor said, nearly shouting. “You do realize you’ve just confessed to a crime, a serious crime?”
Atkinson seemed even more smug than he had before. “Then let me confirm my guilt,” he said with annoying calm. “Not only did I give the secret to activating the paragenes to the S.F.H., I have placed that information, freely available, on the public information networks of the United States, the European Union, the Pan-Asian Homogeny, and the Corporate Consortium. It has been uploaded under hundreds of filenames, formats and encryption methods. I have also sent copies of all the data, on portable storage devices, to certain associates who copied it to other devices so as to distribute them as widely as possible. It will be virtually impossible to purge the information in all of its forms from all of the networks and confiscate the physical copies of the data. The genie, so to speak is out of the bottle. Or, if you prefer, Pandora’s Box has been opened.”
O’Connor’s face had turned a pasty white. “Why? Why did you do this?” he asked, fighting for breath. “Do you understand what you’ve turned loose?”
Atkinson laughed. “I understand what I have set free far better that you or any of your barely-literate colleagues possibly could. What I have ‘turned loose,’ Senator, is human evolution. I have begun a revolution of evolution.”
“You sound as though you agree with those scientific maniacs of the G.R.E.E.N. Conspiracy, the murderers of hundreds of thousands of innocent people,” O’Connor said, his anger starting to overcome his shock at Atkinson’s disclosure.
Atkinson allowed himself an uncharacteristic chuckle. “Agree with the G.R.E.E.N. Conspiracy, senator? My good man, I founded the G.R.E.E.N. Conspiracy.”
***
The ill-fitting bright orange jumpsuit and the handcuffs he wore had done nothing to shake Atkinson’s calm demeanor. In the two days since his appearance before the Senate, Atkinson had endured extensive interrogation concerning his release of the paragene activation process and his knowledge of the G.R.E.E.N. Conspiracy. While he did seem fatigued, he remained defiantly arrogant. He retained his signature conceited, self-assured smirk. He did not have the demeanor of prisoner. It was clear to Hicks, looking at the doctor from the other side of the Plexiglas divider of the prison’s visiting area, that the doctor believed that he was in control of his situation.
Hicks settled into a chair that was bolted to the floor and donned a communications headset connected to the visiting room’s intercom system. “You wanted to see me.” Hicks said.
Atkinson nodded. “Yes, general. There are things that I want you to know.”
“All right,” Hicks said. “I’m here. But what are you going to tell me that you didn’t tell your interrogators?”
“Oh, I told them everything they wanted to know,” Atkinson said. “I’ve given them the names of all of my remaining associates. I also gave them details of our facilities and organization. None of that matters now that the paragene’s secrets are in the open. But you were with me from the beginning of the ‘Seed Corn’ Project as we learned about the paragene and how to develop it. You, more than any other person alive, understand the potential of paranormals. You are a man of at least acceptable intelligence, unlike those dullards that the people of the United States seem compelled to elect to high office. I wanted you to understand why I’ve done what I have done. I want you to make Colonel Carter and the other paranormals understand.”
“Then why didn’t you ask to see Colonel Carter?” Hicks asked.
“It is quite clear that the colonel dislikes me,” Atkinson replied. “And, as I’ve said, you and I were there from the beginning of the development of the paragene program. You, better than anyone else, understand that paranormals are the future of mankind.”
“I think you’ve misjudged me, doctor,” Hicks countered. “Paranormals are certainly a part of the future, a big part, but the future doesn’t belong to them alone.”
“But it does,” Atkinson disagreed. “I’ve seen to it.”
Hicks cocked his head. “I thought that was what releasing that bio-weapon of yours was all about, killing almost all normal humans and leaving paranormals as the dominant species on earth, ruled over by you and your hyper-intellectual cronies, of course. It’s ironic that it was a group of paranormals that put a stop to that plan.”
“Ironic, yes,” Atkinson said. “But not entirely unexpected. The paranormals that comprised F.I.R.E. teams Alpha and Bravo used their superior abilities to thwart our plans. So in a way, it proves the point that my associates and myself were trying to make. After all, it would have been impossible for normal human beings to have stopped the complete deployment of our biological agent.”
“But the deployment of your weapon was stopped. How can you say that you have assured the future?” Hicks pressed.
Atkinson smiled thinly. “I’m sure you already reasoned that out, General.”
“Humor me.” Hicks insisted.
“Very well,” Atkinson consented. “Consider the acronym, General. G-R-E-E-N, the Genetic Research Accelerated Evolution Network. The initial aim to reduce the normal human population of Earth to free up living space and resources for use by paranormals would have accelerated human evolution to a greater degree than what I have recently done. But by making the technique for activating the paragene freely available, I have assured that those without the gene will eventually be eliminated through natural selection. Eventually being a paranormal will become normal.”
“Granted,” Hicks said. “You’ve created one hell of a shit storm by giving the activation process away, but the expertise and equipment needed to make use of that information isn’t exactly common.”
Atkinson eyes took on a glimmer. “It’s true that it takes a certain degree of skill in genetic engineering to make use of the information I disseminated, but the equipment can be found in even a moderately well-equipped genetics laboratory. While it took years of research to discover the paragene and even more years of work to develop the processes with which to activate it, with the proper instructions, any reasonably competent geneticist can perform the activation process. There is no stopping the proliferation of the paragene throughout the population.”
“I expect that the skill set to activate the gene will still be pretty rare,” Hicks countered. "How many genetic scientists out there aren’t working for a government?”
Atkinson’s face almost beamed with glee as he replied to Hicks’ question. “It’s true that even reasonably competent genetic scientists are relatively rare, but that will not matter.”
Hick’s chest tightened as he asked his next question. “Why is that?”
“You are, of course, familiar with Laurel and Wilbur Marsden,” Atkinson said, looking like a hunter watching a carefully-laid trap about to be sprung.
“They’re sergeants from the P.A.Cs Second Regimental Combat Team. They’re expecting a baby in a few months.” Hicks now realized that he was being led to another profound revelation.
Atkinson smile became menacingly mischievous as he saw comprehension come slowly to Hicks. “That’s correct. Their child will be the first born to parents who are both activated paranormals. In my capacity as the foremost authority on the paragene, I am predicting that that child will be a paranormal and that it will be born with its paranormal abilities already active.”
“Which means that there will be paranormal children being born all over the planet very soon,” Hicks said.
“Not only that,” Atkinson said. “The paragene, once activated, is dominant trait. This, of course, means that even when only one parent is an active paranormal, there is a high probability that the offspring will also be paranormal.”
“God in heaven,” Hicks said. “People will go insane when this gets out.”
“No doubt,” Atkins agreed with a shrug. “Keep in mind that paranormals will have more opportunities to breed than normal humans simply because of their superior traits. Consider, General. In all of your extensive contact with paranormals, have you ever encountered a paranormal who wasn’t physically attractive?”
Hicks nodded almost involuntarily, recalling a young trooper in P.A.C. who had had severe psoriasis prior to having his gene activated and whose skin became flawless after the activation process. He also knew that because of the changes to the metabolism that occurred during the activation process, it was nearly impossible for paranormals to become obese. Possessing an immune system many times more efficient than non-paranormals made paranormals healthier, generally, than the normal human population and, Hicks had to admit, much more physically attractive on average that the bulk of the human population.
Noting Hick’s reluctant agreement, Atkinson continued. “That attractiveness, combined with more than normal human fertility and an average lifespan of three hundred years, means that the paragene will make its way into the gene pool at what could conceivably be an exponential rate. It can’t be stopped now, General. In only a few generations, people with active paragenes will be commonplace. The only reason no paranormal children have been born until now is that potential parents were in military service and had elected to delay procreating until the Sovereignty War ended. In a thousand years, mere normals will be an anomaly.”
“My God,” Hicks said. “Do you know what you’ve done? You thought the G.R.A. was oppressive? After what you’ve done, people will be seeing paranormal boogie-men in every shadow and under every bed. You may have just started a global race war.”
“I doubt that,” Atkinson said. “The governmental leaders may not be particularly bright, but they’re very pragmatic when it comes to their personal survival and maintaining their political power. The G.R.A. will not be passed in light of my revelations.”
“They’ll probably pass something worse,” Hicks growled.
“Again, I doubt that,” Atkinson said. “Consider it from a politician’s perspective. If you were confronted by the fact that there were paranormal individuals in the service, not only of governments other than your own but also in the service of terrorists and criminal organizations that are openly and vehemently opposed to your political agenda and possibly hostile to you personally, would you alienate and antagonize the one group of paranormals that are sworn to protect you? Would you want to breed ill will in the one military force capable of meeting a potential paranormal threat on an equal basis? Would you want them to teach their superior offspring to view you as an enemy? I have made the Paranormal Army Command virtually indispensable, and because they’re indispensable, they now have a great deal of negotiating power.”
Hicks took a deep calming breath. “Have you told anyone that the Marsden baby will have an active paragene? Have you told people that paranormal babies will all have active genes?”
Atkinson nodded. “I wanted you to be the first to know about the Marsden child. As to the fact of the paragene’s dominance, that information was uploaded and otherwise distributed at the same time as the activation process, but time delayed to be released in… what time is it now?”
Hicks looked at his watch. “Zero-eight fifty-five,” he said.
Atkinson smiled again. “The new revelation will become available worldwide in five minutes.”
“You’re insane, doctor,” Hicks said, his eyes boring into the doctor’s.
“Oh no, General,” the doctor countered. “I’m quite sane, and I’ve only just begun.”