CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
ON THE RADAR
The Council did not tolerate our dissension, and in retaliation, called for a cleansing. The Spanish Inquisition spread across Europe, a cover for the Council to rid itself of the hosts of renegade Quasing. They called us Prophus, betrayers. They referred to themselves as Genjix, the old order. From that moment, all Quasing were forced to choose sides. It was at this moment that the war to control humanity’s destiny had begun. To this day, we proudly bear the name Prophus.
Sean stood on the balcony above the docking bay floor and watched as the small army of scientists packaged the various prototypes for transportation. He brushed his hands across the railing and wrinkled his nose at the layer of dust there.
The underwater facility was not finished yet; construction was three months behind schedule and the builders were starting to cut corners in order to make up for the lost time. It was obvious to him where they were being sloppy. Sean made a mental note to remind the foreman that this was a research manufacturing facility and not some lumber store. This disgusting display of filth was unacceptable. If the prototype’s electronics failed because of dust in the systems, Sean would have his head.
“Status,” he said to no one in particular.
A beady-eyed project manager walked up next to Sean and bowed. “Father, the Chinook will be arriving within the hour to make the delivery to the air base. The Newfoundland base has reported that the freighter is standing by and ready to transport. Capulet’s Ski Lodge is expecting us. However, there is a delay in the vat decontamination. Cleaning crews anticipate a detoxification period of four weeks before they’re deemed safe for disassembly.”
“And the scientists and engineers?”
“They will join the prototypes within two weeks.”
“Another delay.” Sean ground his teeth. This month was already a wash. Two more weeks before the team could continue on the Penetra, and a bloody month before they could even take apart the damn vat. Who knew how much longer it would require for transport and reassembly, not to mention rebuilding the control mixtures. Further and further back.
The mayor had delivered the permits as promised, but the delay in completing the production facility had hindered the research and construction of the prototypes, and the program as a whole. Add in the frequent raids from the Prophus on their supply lines, and the schedule had been falling behind. Now, with the discovery of a mole – their chief biologist no less – their entire operation was compromised, and the only option now was to move the project to southern Europe. Sean hadn’t thought the Prophus had such a large presence in the Midwest. It was one of the reasons he had chosen this location.
“Unacceptable,” he snapped, causing the five people around him to jump.
Your control has been disappointing. I expected better.
“No one is punishing me more than I am, Chiyva. I am shamed before the Holy Ones. I swear I will raise myself in your eyes.”
Sean turned to the project manager and grabbed him by the tie. “I expect the cargo loaded and the Chinook up in the air within twenty minutes of it reaching the platform. Cancel the scientists and engineers’ leave. No one is allowed out of this facility. They are to go directly to Capulet’s Ski Lodge as soon as they are packed. Do you understand, Mr Cuinn?”
“Father,” Cuinn stammered, “half of them are contract civilians. They’ll be gone for a year. This will be the last time they can see their families.”
There is a time for a whip, and there are men who respond to whips. You are misjudging those you lead.
Sean scowled, barely suppressing his rage. “You have my orders,” he snarled. “And you tell those contractors working on this facility that if they don’t make the next deliverable, I am docking one percent a day off their pay.” He turned and stormed off. “And if they object, shoot them.”
The weight of the Genjix is heavy on you, my son. Perhaps it has been too great.
“Chiyva, my purpose is to serve. I will not tolerate these failures.”
When the P1 project to develop the Penetra scanner was first conceived, Sean had been honored to be the vessel given the task. When the initial theoretical designs were approved, he thought his rise to the head of the Council was all but assured. But the project had been plagued by delays.
To make matters worse, when Devin saw the bill for the Homeland surveillance of Tao, Devin nearly came down to Chicago to shoot Sean himself. Add that to Marc’s complete failure to capture Roen, and it had been a very bad several months.
Control. Always be in control. Remember where I came from.
“Apologies, Holy One.”
Chiyva was right. Chiyva was always right. Sean closed his eyes and took a deep breath, bringing forth the dreams his Holy One had shown him. He thought back to the hundred years Chiyva lived in the dark in captivity. He remembered his own capture with the Vietcong. This delay was nothing.
He opened his eyes and exhaled. The project was still on course, if not slightly delayed. A few months in Quasing time was insignificant. It was better to get the project right. His place on the Council would be assured, regardless of how late the project was, as long as he delivered. He was the blessed one; it was up to him to show the humans he was their better.
Sean turned and walked back to Cuinn. “Let the scientists and engineers have their leave, Mr Cuinn. Give them an extra week. It has been a difficult few months for everyone. The time off will be good for them. Let everyone know that their work is appreciated and to come back refreshed, but remind them that the next delivery date cannot be missed. Understood?”
Cuinn nodded and bowed. “They will appreciate it, Father.”
Sean’s phone rang. He excused himself and answered it.
Marc was on the line. “Father, the surveillance team at Kathy Blair’s house picked up Roen Tan. He stayed for an hour and then left toward O’Hare Airport. Our agents followed him to a Gulfstream heading east.”
Sean’s mind raced. How could he take advantage of this information? “Were you able to get a satellite on it?”
“Even better. One of the surveillance team tagged it. We’re tracking the plane now. It’s currently across the Atlantic heading northeast. It appears he’s headed to England.”
England? What could Roen Tan be doing there? “How far are you behind him?” Sean asked.
“I can be on a jet by tonight. However, we might lose him if his trail is not picked up when he lands.”
Sean formulated a plan in seconds. The opportunity was far too great for them to let it slip through their fingers again. Tao would be away from his safety net. If they could manage to keep tabs on him, an assault team could take him when he least expected it. “Contact the European Council; calculate the trajectory of the plane and have a surveillance team ready at whatever airport they are landing at. When can your team be ready?”
“Tomorrow at the earliest.”
“You will lead the attack personally.”
“As you wish, Father.”
Sean hung up and smiled. Things were starting to look up.
The Lives of Tao
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