Author’s Notes:
Thank you all so much for coming back (or for continuing along, if you weren’t reading this series before the Great Plague of 2020). I know that I haven’t posted a new chapter in quite some time, but most of you have been very patient and supportive. My thanks to those of you who took the time to comment or send messages of encouragement. In particular, I wanted to thank author acup (one of my personal favorites) for commenting a couple of times about my chapter length and need to tie off loose threads. Having such a prominent author on this site provide that feedback was very encouraging, so I thank you.
As I mentioned in my bio update a while back, I’ve been collating and editing the first 13 chapters of this series. Whew! It seemed like a good idea when I started, but then I realized that I had more than 200K words to read, digest, and revise. I have a newfound respect for professional editors. What I did was more in fixing some errors of timeline and a few conflicting story points than anything else. I did go through and try to streamline the text by cutting down on wordiness and fix some spelling errors/missing words.
It was helpful to me in picking up some ideas that I introduced and then never revisited, so I’ll be working in coming chapters to address some of the more interesting ones that could have a bearing on how the story unfolds down the road. The other thing that I found is that the story has changed significantly from the early chapters, moving in ways that I didn’t consider when I set out. And I’m okay with that. I like having the freedom to expand on the original idea when something pops into my head. But it does highlight that I need to bring some closure to story arcs before I move forward too quickly.
I expect this series to change a little bit as a result. When I started out, I expected to have eight chapters, each detailing the circumstances surrounding Carson’s relationship with a particular woman. Obviously, I blew through that artificial stop sign long ago, and there’s so much room for more. So, while I will continue to call the installments “chapters,” I think they should really be viewed more as installments in a serial. I don’t know that I see—or even want—and end anytime soon, so long-term planning is pretty vague. Instead, my intention is to create mini-arcs within the overall story and setting. Maybe that seems patently obvious to everyone else, but it’s a novel concept to me (no pun intended).
Now that I’ve written a chapter before the chapter begins, on with the story.
Standard disclaimer: All sexual activity takes place between adults. This is fiction. Any resemblance to reality is purely coincidental, I assure you. And if you like the story—heck, even if you don’t like the story—please, take a moment to comment. It’s especially helpful if you have something constructive to add. It helps me quite a bit to see the story through others’ eyes.
—MB
*****
Carson looked around the table at the seemingly disparate personalities all gathered together, tied only by the common belief that Eisenfaust had to be stopped before the future of humanity was permanently destroyed. It was an eclectic group to put it mildly. There was Edwards, the erudite giant with the philosopher’s soul. Next to him in one of the more jarring physical contrasts you’d ever see was Starfyre, a technical genius more at ease with software than people and equally at home on either side of the legal line. By Carson’s side was his Valkyrie, Tilda. A fierce warrior both away from home and within, she was his pipeline to the considerable intelligence resources of the SSH.
He understood Patterson, Jordan, and Sonja less well. Still, without Jordan’s access they wouldn’t have been able to scalp his father quite so easily.
We need more if this is going to work. Ever since his conversation with Director Sinclair, Carson had been contemplating how his life was going to change. It was heady stuff, the thought that a man of his relative youth would soon be heading a large underground organization with designs on changing the world. And yet, there was something quite satisfying about the idea at the same time. What kept him from getting a swelled head were Ramsey’s words, the ones that had tormented him ever since: “Orriri is sick, Carson. It’s decaying from the inside…When the pieces begin to fall, when the heads begin to roll, it will be time for the project to take its medicine and cut out the cancer. But Orriri will also need a doctor to bring them back to health. That doctor is you.”
As he considered that conversation, he remembered a similar conversation he’d had with Helena months ago. Her opinion from back then lined up with the Director’s, that the organization had grown so large that it was susceptible to coercion towards ends that didn’t align with Orriri’s.
With these thoughts in mind, Carson had been considering what kind of “surgery” that the Project might require to restore its health. The one thought he kept returning to was that there was too little emphasis on utilizing yıldızeli escort the human talent for the betterment of society, and too much on breeding better human talent. Essentially, Orriri had lost its direction, its unifying purpose. He meant to fix that.
The concept he had in mind had two components. First, Orriri needed to trim some fat. Removing the Lund and Clemonte lines from the council was a start, but if Carson got his way, the van Heuval line would soon follow the others. That would reduce the council to nine seats, easier to coordinate actions, and as an odd number, naturally amenable to majority voting.
The Golden lines were just the beginning, though. While he agreed that there was value in promoting certain people’s genetic contributions, the fertility clinics provided a means of spreading selected genetics across a wider swath than any hundred donors combined. Thus, treating non-Golden lines similarly to the Golden was non-sensical. Instead, Carson proposed to declare that the “initial phase” of the Project had proven successful and was being drawn to a close. Since the direction of the Project was left to the council members and the genetic “directors” who evaluated matches, it was a plausible excuse.
Under this storyline, the second component of the plan would be conducted. The resources of the Golden lines would be marshalled and reorganized to focus on exerting strategic political and financial pressure on civilian governments and organizations to promote the values that Orriri promoted through breeding. No sense in pursuing a single line of attack when a two- or three-pronged one would be more effective. In so doing, he hoped that the Golden lines would begin to focus on specific areas, and the organization as a whole would begin to function more like a conglomerate of corporations, all working towards common goals.
All that aside, there was still room in society for a group that had the ability to intercede when traditional or accepted means failed. The police couldn’t seize private assets without probable cause, but Exercitus Vindictae could. There were bad people in the world that the legal system simply couldn’t eliminate or control, like the arms dealer in Somalia. It was a dangerous, very slippery slope that he was stepping out on, but Carson was firmly convinced that the pace of change was always going to be too slow unless negative societal factors were removed at the same time that positive factors were introduced. Hence, tonight’s meeting.
“Thank you all for agreeing to meet tonight. I hope that I don’t need to impress upon you the need for secrecy here. There was a reason for all the security measures, as will become patently obvious in a few minutes. Before we begin, I’d like to make a few introductions. Many of you will recognize faces around you, might even know many of them. I doubt, though, that any of you know everyone else here.”
He took a few minutes to introduce not only the original members of his ragtag group of vigilantes, but also a few new additions. “Dr. Alexander Cross, world-renowned geneticist and our best hope in the fight against the Eisenfaust virus, and my father-in-law.” He paused before moving on as heads nodded in familiarity or welcome. “Over here is Mr. Gabriel Pruitt. Mr. Pruitt owns a very successful accounting firm here in town, and is grandfather to one of my children.” He continued naming names and describing them: Thurston Livingstone. Orisa Okafor. Xavier Sloane.
Finally he reached the name of the person he was least familiar with: “Lena Sinclair. Lena and I have only recently gotten acquainted, so I understand that some of you may be uncomfortable with her presence. Having spoken with her father, Director Sinclair, and from my conversations with her over the past week, I believe that she has some unique qualifications that would serve us well.”
“Who’s ‘us’?” interrupted Gabriel. “Your message was decidedly vague on that point.”
“The answer to that question remains to be seen,” replied Carson. “It could be that we have a conversation and leave here tonight with no ‘us’ at all. I sincerely hope that isn’t the case, but it’s a possibility.”
Clearing his throat, Carson launched into the presentation he’d been agonizing over. “As you all know, our world is under attack. The very future of humankind is in doubt as a result of the virus that is sweeping the world. No doubt you’ve heard that NeoGenesys was the source of the virus. What you may not know is who the responsible people are. Director Sinclair told me that Orriri is sick. What he meant was, there are branches of the Orriri ‘tree’ that are producing poison fruit. Specifically, the heads of three Golden lines and unknown numbers of lesser lines formed a cabal that we now know as Eisenfaust, or ‘Iron Fist.’ It was this group that was responsible for the development of the virus and unleashing it on the world.”
There were a number of shocked gasps around the room as the import of his words sank in. “Are you absolutely sure about this Carson?” asked yozgat escort Orisa.
“Ms. Okafor…” began Jordan.
“Risa, please.”
“Risa, I can assure you that Carson is telling the truth. You see, my father is one of the conspirators.” Risa gawked at his seeming nonchalance. Jordan shrugged. “I’m obviously not proud of it, and I’m going to do all I can to stop them. But I can’t put balloon back together after it’s popped, just as I can’t worry too much about what’s already done.”
Carson was impressed with how Jordan approached the topic. He’s sure grown up in the time that I’ve known him.
“Dr. Cross…”
“Carson,” warned his father-in-law.
Acceding to his wishes, Carson began again. “Alex here has been working non-stop since the NeoGenesys documents were exposed. That thanks to the brilliant work of Starfyre, here.” The little pixie blushed deeply at his praise and hid behind her bangs, but Carson studiously ignored her, knowing it was to her secret delight. “But his laboratory is too small and he needs more resources to continue his work to halt the spread of the virus.”
“What does this have to do with the rest of us?” asked Thurston.
Carson sighed. “The virus is a tragic happening with monumental effects. But it’s not the only scourge afflicting our society or our world. You don’t have to look far to find the strong preying on the weak, to find the morally bankrupt exploiting the people who try to play life’s game by the rules, to see opportunity skip over too many doors. The problem is, the boundaries and rules of civilized society provide a comfort only to people who respect them, or at least respect the power that enforces them.
“But all those people I just described could care less about where the lines are drawn or whether they color inside them. As long as they are unchecked, the people who live within the lines are trapped and bound by them, and subject to the whims of those who live beyond the borders. Even worse, those who enforce the boundaries are themselves constrained by the boundaries. What we need is a group that also lives outside the lines, whose goal is to protect those within.”
“A desperate disease requires a desperate remedy,” observed Edwards. Seeing Carson’s eyebrow raised questioningly, he added, “Guy Fawkes, a conspirator in the plot to blow up the English parliament in 1605.”
Carson was pleased to see a new look of appreciation for his friend on the faces of those sitting around the table.
“Edwards is right. We need a desperate remedy, and I believe that the beginnings of the remedy are in this room now. A few of us recently prevailed upon Jordan’s father to make a rather substantial donation to our efforts.” He paused before grinning. “Who am I kidding? We cleaned him out. As a result, we have quite a large number of credits at our disposal. The question is, what to do with them?
“I asked you all here tonight because I have an idea about a ‘desperate remedy.’ I propose that we organize around the idea of opposing all those negative actors out there. In the comics, we would be the shadowy vigilante that causes the villains to quake at his sight. And like those fictional vigilantes, we maintain a public presence—a legitimate face—as a cover for our other activities.”
A few nervous glances passed between the attendees of the meeting. Carson waited them out, hoping that there would be some questions from the group that would indicate which direction the discussion might go. “Are we talking cyberwarfare or actual, physical confrontation?” asked Gabriel.
“Physical,” answered Sonja as Starfyre simultaneously said, “Cyberwarfare.”
“Actually,” replied Carson, “Both. It simply depends on the nature of the threat. If we can politically outmaneuver someone through intelligence and networking, then that’s great. But if someone or some group are basically untouchable from a distance, then we escalate the response.”
Gabriel looked aggrieved. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with joining a what? Guerrilla army?”
Before Carson could respond, Tilda replied, “Let’s not exaggerate things before we even get started. We’re not looking to challenge the legal establishment or its representatives. At least, not by extra-legal means. If I understand what Carson’s getting at, it will be more like a justice syndicate, if you will. Like how organized crime is called organized crime because their criminal activities are organized and coordinated for the good of the group.”
“It’s still breaking the law,” pointed out Risa.
Sonja scoffed disgustedly. “You people and the law. You know what the law is? It’s a cage, nothing more. Some people are perfectly content to stay in their corner of the cage and eat the scraps given them by the zookeeper. But the wild animals don’t give a frick about the cage or the people in them, except that it gathers their victims and prey in nice, tidy groups for easy pickings.
“You think arms dealers care about the law when they’re making millions or billions of credits selling stolen weapons yüreğir escort to terror groups? You think that flesh-peddlers care about the law when they’re kidnapping and selling young girls? Drug dealers? Smash-and-grab thugs? Do you?” By the time she was done, Sonja was on her feet and nearly shouting. As she looked around at the stunned faces looking back at her, she seemed to realize that her outburst was excessive, and she slowly sank back into her seat. Jordan took her hand.
She took a deep breath and slowly began to speak. “My sister was 14 years old the first time she tried to float. 14.” Carson’s heart went out to her. Floating had been a craze that swept the country about a decade earlier. It started out when someone, somewhere had figured out that one of the new environmentally-friendly propellants in some common household products had mildly hallucinogenic properties. Great fun was had by all, right up until people—mostly teens—began showing up in hospitals complaining of memory loss and problems with lack of inhibitions. Like, literally, they could no longer prevent themselves from doing whatever random thing came to mind.
Suddenly, dozens of otherwise good kids were doing all sorts of things that they wouldn’t have done before. Hormone-crazed teens were even more promiscuous than ever, but the next morning couldn’t remember what they’d done. Teen pregnancies soared.
But the worst part came when the dealers figured out how to make the puffers. Puffers were tiny little capsules of the compressed gas that dissolved deep in the sinus cavity after inhaling. It prolonged the effects with devastating consequences.
What was intended to be a recreational product became a tool of rapists and kidnappers. They’d force their target to snort from a puffer packet. Once their target was under the effects of the drugs, unspeakable things were done to the girl. Sometimes it was over in a night. More often, it was the beginning of a years-long nightmare of prostitution and sexual slavery, until the woman was used up completely. Suicide rates were in the 80–90% range among the women who were released from their captivity, only to find that much of their lives were gone without a trace.
“They took her the night she turned 18. Some ‘friends’ of hers that she’d been partying with for a while simply took her and disappeared. I didn’t see her for three years. Not until she showed up in a hospital, disease-ridden and almost dead. There wasn’t much for the doctors to work with, and she…she…died in my arms.” With tears leaking down her face, Sonja looked around at the group that had gone silent as they listened to her story. “Eve was only 22 years old, a year older than me, when she died. The police had an idea of who the group behind the kidnapping was, but they couldn’t do anything about it. Even when they found a witness, to try and bring charges against them, the person would either clam up or end up dead themselves. The boogeyman is real, and he is all around us,” she finished with a glare.
Carson let the silence that followed drag on, allowing the members of the group to ruminate on Sonja’s words. Her unexpected personal illustration spoke more eloquently to the problem than anything he could have said.
Finally, he softly said, “Thank you, Sonja. I’m truly sorry that you and your family had to go through with that.” To the rest of the group, he said, “She’s right. The boogeyman…the devil…whatever you want to call the evil spirits of this world, are real. They wear many faces and are known by many names.”
“What, exactly, are you proposing then?” asked Thurston.
“First, we need to address the virus. Without action, there is no doubt that humanity is destined to fade into oblivion. Dr. Cross—Alex—recently approached me with a proposal that I believe has a great deal of merit. Now, thanks to Jordan’s father, we have the resources to make it happen.”
Over the next half hour or so, Carson laid out his plans to use some of the proceeds taken from Jozef van Heuval’s accounts to purchase NeoGenesys outright. With the additional equipment and facilities, and especially their research reports, it was believed that Alex would be able to develop an antibody against the virus, and perhaps even a means of reversing the damage done to the infected men. Along with Dr. Cross as the new chief science officer Thurston as COO, Gabriel as the CFO, Orisa as legal counsel, and Starfyre as the head of IT, Carson would become the CEO of the new company. He was wrapping up, as it was becoming increasingly clear that the others were on board with his plan.
“What’re you going to call it?” asked Lena. She’d been listening to the discussion with growing interest. Watching as Carson worked, she could sense that he was a natural-born leader. The people he’d gathered around himself, in this room at least, were going to follow him to the ends of the earth. They might object to this point or that one, but he seemed to have an innate character that drew people towards him. At the same time, she sensed a reluctance to be at the forefront. It was this genuine humility that she found most admirable. When her father had suggested the man as a possible companion, she’d been skeptical. Seeing him in action, though, she couldn’t deny that the possibility for more was growing more enticing by the minute.