The Lives of Tao

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

MONACO DECENNIAL



Inside the Chest of the Menagerie, Zoras found hundreds of small animals, each with a Genjix prisoner inside. It was there that he freed Chiyva. Enraged at the imprisonment of the Genjix, Zoras decided to teach the Prophus a hard lesson. And what happened next was a crime among the Quasing that echoes to this day.

Prior to the incident with the Chest of the Menagerie, we were content to wage war in a manner that delayed and inconvenienced the other side. Killing a Quasing’s host was enough to set that Quasing back for years. In an act of unspeakable horror, Zoras raised the stakes.



Roen was as nervous as a teenager about to ask a girl to prom as he stepped off the plane and blinked into the very bright sun that beat down on him. There was a different feel to attending the Decennial than any other mission. It felt significant. Like Stephen and Paula had said, being allowed to attend meant he was considered an agent worthy of a Quasing. It was almost like his Quasing bar mitzvah.

Being in Monte Carlo didn’t hurt either. It was the perfect blend of tropical weather, gorgeous old-world Europe, and glitzy Las Vegas, all wrapped up in a few square kilometers. But the conference wasn’t the reason he was nervous – what made him nervous was waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

Sonya waved enthusiastically as she barreled into him with an embrace that nearly knocked him off his feet. They hadn’t seen each other since the Dublin assignment and he missed her like crazy. Command had pulled her off his training after the Yol assignment and had kept her in England to deal with the Labour Party’s precarious position. The last he heard of Sonya, she had just been promoted to command the Prophus security detail for the Decennial.

Roen often saw her name in the communiqués from Command. She was climbing fast through the ranks and becoming a star in the organization. He received an occasional email from her – with a reminder to stay in shape, and study up on this weapon or that world event – but nothing ever remotely personal. He had begun to think that all that time they spent together was nothing but business to her, a mission for her to complete and then forget.

For Roen, her absence had been a painful void in his life that slowly faded as the months passed. He had nearly stopped thinking about her, until Sonya emailed him telling him she’d pick him up. Their embrace was held a bit tighter and longer than appropriate. Roen felt a twinge of guilt about Jill.

He studied Sonya as they walked through the airport terminal. She looked a little tired and had a few gray strands in her otherwise luxurious black hair, but still looked gorgeous. Roen had to keep himself from gawking. Sonya would never be a Bond girl. She would just make James Bond look bad; could definitely kick his ass too.

The two walked very close and chatted as if no time had lapsed. Roen felt ashamed, but he missed being so close to her. As much as he didn’t like to admit it, his infatuation with her returned as strong as ever. Though they were and always would be good friends, there was something about that first crush, especially with someone who taught you how to shoot a target a hundred meters away at a full sprint. The window for anything past friendship had long passed, and he couldn’t help but feel regret for that lost possibility.

Hello? Jill? The girl you are ring-shopping for?

“I know! I’m just regretting. Can’t a guy do that?”

Depends on who you ask; I am sure Jill will say otherwise.

“Listen, Thought Police, I’m only reminiscing.”

Reminiscing is when one is thinking about the past. What you are dreaming about never happened. The word for that is fantasizing.

“Well, good thing you can’t tell on me.”

Technically, I could.

“Traitor. So what’s the history with this shindig, anyway? The briefs were vague on the history of this soiree. How did this Quasing convention come to be?”

As the name implied, it began in the 1800s, after the second American war, and was meant to be held every ten years. Our conflict with the Genjix changed from a war of control, to one of outright revenge. Entire host families were being massacred, and the violence spiraled out of control to humans not involved with the Quasing. It culminated with a group of Prophus causing the Boston Broad Street Riot in the 1830s, just to cover their escape from an attack on a Genjix safe house.

From that time on, both factions decided to sit down every ten years and hammer out rules of engagement. Guidelines, if you will. Thus, we now have the Peace Accords, a toothless yet constricting document that tells us how to not annihilate each other. However, ever since the 1871 Decennial, which caused the Chicago fire, they have been held only when both sides agreed to meet.

“So Mrs O’Leary’s cow didn’t kick over the lantern, huh. And isn’t not annihilating each other a good thing?”

Depends on which way you look at it.

Roen and Sonya got into the car and sped off toward the Metropole, their hotel. She wanted to know everything that had happened to him since Dublin. He was surprised to find out that she had kept detailed tabs on all his missions. And when he told her about his conflicts with being an agent, she admitted to him her own struggles with being one as well.

“Then why didn’t you call or visit?” he asked, a bit subdued. Her doubts would surely have helped give him perspective.

Sonya paused, and then looked away. “Stephen told me not to. After Dublin, he said you needed space to find yourself. I was told to keep my distance to see if you’d come back on your own. I’m sorry.”

Roen was speechless. It made sense, he supposed, but still, that’s why they lost touch? He knew he shouldn’t care; they were just friends, but he did care, and it made him furious. The two sat in silence until they reached the Metropole.

The Metropole was owned by Vinnick, a powerful Genjix on the Council that the Prophus trusted to be honorable. During the four-day conference, the two factions operated under a strict banner of truce. The regular staff was replaced by non-combat personnel from both factions and strict rules were put in place to deter violence. All agents were forbidden from open conflict under the penalty of being sent to the Eternal Sea.

Covert work, however, was still tolerated as long as no one was caught. This made the Decennial dangerous, and the friendly daytime meetings sometimes degenerated into assassination attempts at night. These conference protections only extended to the four walls of the hotel, so it became open game once anyone stepped off the grounds.

As a precaution, they formed a joint task force consisting of members from both sides assigned specifically to keep the peace. Roen marveled at the first three checkpoints on the way in, and they were still on the driveway leading to the hotel. Once he got out with his bags, he had to join another line to the fourth checkpoint, where security searched through his luggage. They confiscated his pistol, knife, even his flashbangs.

“Man, Tao. It’s worse than airport security here.”

You should have seen it before these rules were set up. We almost started World War III one year when they snuck in a biological weapon.

“What?!”

It is all right. We brought incendiaries that year, so it kind of evened out.

“Why do I feel like coming here was a very bad idea?”

Why do you think I was originally against you coming? I did not think you would be ready by the time the Decennial was held. You have proved me wrong though.

Roen checked into his room and went over the conference itinerary. Tao did not have any issues to bring up, but wanted to keep up to date with current events. In the past, his previous hosts had always played a contentious role in these negotiations, but Tao did not think Roen was ready for that sort of limelight.

Next Decennial, perhaps?

“I get stage fright.”

Roen pulled out a map of the resort and looked at the layout for all the emergency exits, committing them to memory. The Metropole was divided into two large wings connected by a central area that housed the lobby, restaurants, and stores. There were large circles on the map, around all the connecting points between the exits, and a big red square around the eastern wing. The Prophus had the western one.

“Guess I’m not supposed to go to that wing,” Roen muttered.

Most of the action will occur in the central lobby or pool area during the night. It is not unheard of for teams to make incursions as well. Just stay in your room.

“What if I need to go down to buy toothpaste or a magazine?”

Then you deserve to die for your stupidity.

“You’re in a bad mood, aren’t you? I guess a night out on the town is not going to be on the cards tonight, huh?”

Only if you want to get assassinated on the way back. This is serious, Roen. The most peaceful Decennial we ever had involved four deaths across both factions, and that was a hundred years ago.

“Jesus. Why do we bother coming?”

I agree with you there, but even warring countries need to communicate sometimes. Think of it as a United Nations with only two countries.

“Not a big believer in email, huh?”

Roen spent the afternoon unpacking, taking the opportunity to shower and nap before meeting up with Sonya and Paula for dinner. Stephen and Dylan joined them for drinks afterward at the bar.

You can relax tonight. The night before the conference is called the Homestead Reunion. It was the one time when all Quasing put aside our differences.

Roen watched Genjix and Prophus interact as if there wasn’t a five-hundred year-old war going on. Many old friends torn apart by the conflict reconnected here. Even the others sitting with him were frequently greeted by many of the agents from the other faction. No one greeted Roen, though.

“Tao, I have no Genjix friends, and it’s your fault. Sonya and Paula both have a line of people waiting to talk to them. Heck, even Dylan and Stephen got a few.”

I find this reunion experience preposterous. If you are at war, be at war. This is not halftime at a ball game. Timeouts should not be allowed.

“Really? I find it quite civilized.”

There is nothing civilized about war, Roen. Do not be fooled by this charade. These same Genjix buying you drinks tonight were trying to kill you yesterday. And they will try to kill you tomorrow.

“No one is buying me drinks, thanks to you.”

Some friends you can do without.

It was obvious most of the other Quasing did not share the same views as Tao. The bar was becoming crowded as the revelry grew into a full-blown party, though Roen did notice a few scowling faces of Genjix sitting at the far end. Obviously, Tao’s views were shared by some on the other team as well.

Tao wanted him to have a clear head for the next four days and forbade him to drink. That suited Roen fine, since no good ever came from drinking with Stephen and Dylan anyway. His “Tao won’t let me” excuse worked for the most part, though Dylan called Tao “Mother Hen” for the rest of the night. As the night wore on, the others dispersed to mingle with the crowd until he found himself alone.

After sitting by himself for an hour and experiencing a pre-agent life flashback of loneliness, he decided to stop looking like such a loser and went for a walk. Roen was pretty sure no one would miss him anyway. He left the main building and went to a small outdoor café on the balcony. He ordered a latte and sat back, admiring the city lights.

“Hello, Roen, is this seat taken?”

Roen turned and looked at a distinguished looking gentleman standing before him.

Chiyva!

Roen had never heard Tao snarl before, if a Quasing could even snarl. He jumped out of his chair, eyeing Sean warily. Roen didn’t know much about the man, except that Sean was a high-ranking Genjix, heading up much of their American operations, and that Tao hated Chiyva’s guts. Their paths had crossed often and Chiyva had been responsible for the deaths of Tao’s hosts on more than one occasion.

Tao made another snarling, strangled sound when Roen noticed Marc standing just behind Sean. Marc’s look expressed pure hatred. Roen’s hands tightened into fists as he returned the glare. He briefly considered throwing his beverage at Marc until he remembered where he was.

Sean rolled his eyes. “Oh, sit down, Roen. We’re not going ten rounds right now. Ruining Homestead Reunion would be bad form, and I just got my suit back from the cleaners. Besides, are you sure you want to go toe to toe with me? You might have escaped from old Omer and a few incompetent troops, but you’ll find me a bit more challenging. Please, sit. I trust you’ve met Mr Kenton?”

“I’m not such an easy target anymore,” Roen hissed, before hesitantly sitting back down.

Sean smirked at the guards eyeing them warily and followed suit. Behind him, Marc stayed standing. Sean ordered a coffee and took a long exaggerated sip when it came. He then put the cup down on the table, crossed his legs, and leaned back. Neither Roen nor Sean said a word as they studied each other.

Sean said, “You’ve never been an easy target, even since the beginning. You’ve avoided the mental midget here a few times now.” Sean gestured back at Marc. “And you’re looking well, like you almost fit your role with Tao. Almost.” Sean wiggled a finger at Roen’s chest. “There’s a whole lot less of you now than initially reported. That or our operatives need new glasses.”

“You should have made your move a year ago when I wasn’t ready,” Roen said haughtily.

“Well, there are ten million people in Chicago.” Sean shrugged. “Like finding a needle in a haystack. Trust me, if we could have found you sooner, we would have. Oh well, there’s always next time.” He chuckled. “That’s the thing about us blessed ones. There is always tomorrow, if not this lifetime, then the next.”

Roen did not know what to make of this stern, coldly polite man. He was actually let down by Sean’s appearance. He looked normal, even handsome. There was a touch of gray in his neatly trimmed black hair that made him look like a statesman. Otherwise, he had just a normal face with a slightly longer chin. Then Roen realized: it was his eyes. Sean’s gaze was one of complete confidence, as if he knew something no one else did. This was a man so sure of himself that nothing else mattered. It was all Roen could do to rein in his emotions and not flee the table. Sean seemed relaxed and smiled humorously as Roen squirmed in his seat.

Sean picked up his coffee and took another sip. “I’m sorry, how rude of me. Would you like another drink?” He signaled for the waitress. Roen shook his head emphatically.

“Can I get either of you anything?” she asked, pulling out a notepad.

“I’m fine, miss,” Sean said. “But my young friend would like a drink.”

“No, I’m fine, really,” Roen started and then looked at the waitress. Oh, what the heck, he might as well order as long as Sean was paying. “I’ll have a venti mocha latte with skim milk, extra dry with a dash of nutmeg, and a half shot of hazelnut.”

“Got it. I’ll be right back,” she answered and left.

“That’s quite a tall order you have there.” Sean chuckled. “Whatever happened to just coffee?”

“I like to have it my way.” Roen shrugged.

“Yes, yes,” Sean said, taking another sip. “For me, the world’s complicated enough as it is. Why does one’s drink have to be? But then, that’s always been the Prophus way, hasn’t it? To make things far more complicated than they should be. You muddle things up so badly that it’s difficult to know what’s right from wrong, unlike our clarity and single vision.”

You mean simple-minded vision? Roen snarled Tao’s response in the same tone.

Sean laughed. “Possibly. Tao might call us simple-minded for not taking into consideration all the factors that might contribute to the issue, but we Genjix think that it’s more about staying on course with our end goals. We believe the Prophus have lost that perspective. You’ve lost sight of what’s important and have become too concerned with humans this and social issues that.”

“We just do not believe in destroying and enslaving humanity just to get home,” Roen said, repeating Tao’s words.

Sean’s calm expression altered, and for a second, Roen thought he was going to spit out his coffee. Sean stared at him for several seconds before breaking into laughter, a deep, loud uproarious outburst that was the last thing Roen thought would come out of the man. It was an awkward moment and he retraced their conversation trying to figure out where the comedy in the whole matter was.

And just as quickly as it began, Sean’s fit of joviality ended. Moments later, he looked calm and composed again as he shook his head. “I must say,” he began, “I’m surprised. You still think we care about going home.”

What?!

Roen was stunned. Obviously, so was Tao. What was the whole point of all this then?

Before he could ask, a tall young man – dark-haired, with a thin chiseled face – appeared next to Sean and whispered into his ear. For a brief moment, Roen thought he saw a flash of uncertainty in Sean’s eyes. Then he politely excused himself and walked off with the young man as they whispered together off to the side.

There was something very unsettling about that young man. For one thing, Roen couldn’t tear his eyes off him. For another thing, the young man made the statue of David look like a sumo wrestler. He had muscle in places Roen didn’t even know had muscles. His physique could put an underwear model to shame. And to make matters worse, he was handsome beyond belief. Roen hated to say it, but he could very well be staring at the most perfect looking human being he’d ever see. It made him feel more than a bit jealous. But there was also an inhuman quality about him as well; something impossibly cold in the young man’s eyes and an arrogance that turned Roen’s blood to ice.

Snap out of it before you become a groupie.

“I can’t help it. That is one good-looking dude. Is he even human?”

An Adonis Vessel, the Genjix practice of eugenics. These unnatural beings are chosen at birth for their genes, and trained since infancy for the only purpose of being a replacement vessel for senior Genjix. They are travesties of nature.

“Travesty or not, I feel totally inadequate around him. He’s built like a superhero or something. Now I know how normal chicks feel when they’re standing next to a supermodel. He also seems to be bossing Sean around.”

That Adonis Vessel must be from one of the Council then. Be careful if you ever encounter one, Roen. They are very dangerous.

Finally, after their conversation ended, Sean returned and sat down. “My apologies. A personal matter, I’m sure you understand.”

“When are you getting your personal Ken doll?” Roen smirked.

Sean shrugged as if it was the least important thing in the world. “One day, when Chiyva reclaims his rightful place.” He took a sip of his coffee and leaned back. “But back to us; where was I? Oh yes, what we’re doing here. Do you even remember what the mission is, Tao?”

“I thought I did,” Roen said, repeating Tao’s words. “It seems we have differing goals now.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Sean shrugged. “It’s just that your focus is so... narrow. The Genjix prefer to see the bigger picture, to keep our eyes on what really matters, my old friend, which in this case would be to see the survival of our kind. I would say that we’ve done a rather fine job of that since our time here. Wouldn’t you agree, Tao?” Roen reluctantly nodded. Sean leaned forward and spoke in a more serious tone. “And yes, we have had to crack a few eggs along the way, but the job gets done. And isn’t that what’s important?”

“Look, I’m just a lowly human that’s nothing more than a minor nuisance and a stepping stone to your master plan,” Roen drawled, “but just because you believe I’m beneath you doesn’t mean I should just roll over and die.”

“I’m glad you realize that you’re nothing more than a nuisance. Your life, the entire century of it if you’re so lucky, is nothing more than a drop in the ocean for us. So, why are you even bothering to get involved?” Sean spread his arms and waved at their surroundings. “Go live life and enjoy it. Don’t worry about our little family conflict. Do you really want to waste what precious few moments you have on this planet fighting a war that’s not yours? Instead of listening to that delusional voice in your head, why don’t you go see the world, get married, have children. Don’t be another Edward Blair, Roen, and waste your life.”

“Who said Edward wasted his life?” Roen scowled.

“I guess it is all perspective then.” Sean paused and studied him for a moment. “Tell me, Roen, what’s in it for you?”

“What’s in it for you, Sean?” Roen shot back.

“Fair enough. What’s in it for me – besides power, prestige, an endless source of knowledge and wisdom, and all the resources I need at my fingertips – is that I will stand with those others that follow the Genjix in the afterlife to a higher plane of existence. You don’t realize the great gift that has been bestowed upon you by these divine beings, do you?”

Roen rolled his eyes and said, “I’m not one to fall for religious psychobabble, but then I’ve always had a problem with a rabbit that lays painted eggs.”

Sean drained the last of his coffee and asked for another cup as the waitress dropped off the latte. He looked at Roen and smiled all too knowingly. “And yet, you have an infinitely old being residing within you that’s had the experience of a thousand lives. You and I, of all people, should know enough to suspend this standard belief of reality shared by these non-blessed sheep. Don’t you realize? We are no longer mere humans. We are chosen beings fighting for a greater cause. We are evolved. We are the shepherds that guide the flock of humanity. Such mundane concerns that you and these Prophus have are quite beneath you.”

Roen took the cup and sipped the hot drink gingerly. He said, “The difference between us is that you think being a Genjix host makes you a gift to God’s green Earth. You’ve been Genjix so long now that you forgot what it means to be human. You think you’re so above the rest of us that you don’t value humanity anymore. Me, I’m quite fond of being human with my primitive beliefs and emotions. Call me old-fashioned.”

“It doesn’t matter what your perception is. Fact is fact, my young friend, as much as you deny it, you and me, all other Prophus and Genjix vessels, are superior beings. The difference is that the Prophus stoop down to humanity’s level. The Genjix choose to rise above it.”

The waitress came back with another coffee. Sean politely thanked her and continued. “Don’t you see that I’m trying to help you, Roen?”

“That’s what the first Genjix in the garage told me right before he tried to kill me.”

Sean smiled. “Let’s put that behind us, shall we? We’re acquainted now. I want to open your eyes.”

Roen snorted. “He said that, too.”

“You should have listened,” Sean said. “Why fight a losing war?”

“Who says we’re losing?” Roen snapped.

Sean looked genuinely surprised. “You mean, you don’t know? Tao didn’t tell you, did he?”

“What’s he talking about, Tao?”

Do not listen to him. He is just trying to spook you.

“Well, let me enlighten you then on your precarious situation,” Sean continued. “That little Prophus faction – and their philosophy that you have so enthusiastically embraced – are on the brink of collapse. They’ve been steadily retreating and losing ground since their inception and have had their backs against the wall for centuries now.”

“Tao, is this true?”

Tao hesitated before answering. The war has not been going well, but it is nowhere near as bad as Sean claims. I would not put too much stock in his words.

“Why don’t you sleep on that?” Sean said. “You might wake up tomorrow and realize that this might not have been a wise career choice after all.”

“You’re bluffing,” Roen shot back. “From what I’ve seen so far, they’re doing just fine. Brink of collapse? Give me a break.”

Sean shrugged. “Perhaps, perhaps not. I doubt they can survive the century.”

“A hundred years is hardly the brink of collapse. It’s not like you’re the Red Army marching into Berlin.”

“A hundred years is a flash in the pan. Roen, we’re not only in Berlin, we’ve surrounded it, blockaded the ports, and we’re about to throw a grenade down the bunker you’re hiding in.”

Roen struggled to control his temper. He said, “You know, that’s what your problem is. You’re so busy looking at this stupid big picture of yours that you ignore the small things that make the big picture matter. You treat us mere mortals like pawns for your amusement. But remember this; without humans, you superior Genjix are nothing. You need us, yet you treat us as if we’re disposable. You keep going down this path, and one day, you’ll find that there will be no more lowly humans for you to control.”

Sean bared his teeth. “Good thing there are seven billion of you. A few losses are perfectly acceptable.”

“We’ll see about that. Let’s see how acceptable your human losses are after I whittle down your ranks,” snarled Roen. He stood up, pulled out his wallet, and put a few bills on the table. “Thanks for the drink, but I can pay for myself. Next time we meet, I won’t be so civil.” He turned and walked away, not looking back. Roen was so worked up that he stormed back toward his room. He didn’t calm down until he jumped into the shower and then prepared for bed.

“Now I know why you think this conference is a waste of time. There’s no reasoning with these guys. By signing some rules of engagement, we’re just hampering ourselves.”

They play dirty. We just have to play dirtier. Be very careful of Chiyva, though. He is extraordinarily dangerous.

“Chiyva, isn’t that some Hindu god? God of destruction or something?”

Where do you think the name of the god came from?

“I see. Well, we have our work cut out for us then.”