Darwin's Paradox (10 page)

Victor
Burke removed his Sentech-connected vee-set and his vision of Frank Langor’s bedroom abruptly vanished. Victor sighed and looked vacantly up at the ceiling from the bed he was lying on. He easily coaxed the image of her face and shapely body in that nightdress, her soft voice, and her wonderful scent to linger deliciously in his mind and smiled: Julie Crane, one of the rare women he admired and the woman he’d secretly been infatuated with for thirteen years. The woman he’d helped to escape Icaria twelve years ago despite all of Icaria demanding her capture and death sentence...The woman who didn’t even know he existed because they’d never met.

She looked remarkably the same, thought Victor. Age had simply added dignified lines of experience and maturity to her still beautiful face. Mostly laugh lines, he noticed, pleased that she’d had a good life. The heath had imbued her now deeply tanned face with an incredible vitality that sent a thrill through him.

He’d experienced her just now on Sentech’s transmission through Frank Langor’s implant—the one thing, along with his personal droid, that Gaia had left him during this incarceration, perhaps as a conciliation. No, he thought again. That wasn’t her style; she’d done it to torture him and gloat, to show him what she was doing to his precious Icaria. To punish him. Damn her. Damn that woman. And now she’d brought Julie Crane back. He suspected Aard was dead. Killed by that bastard, Tyers, probably. One of Dykstra’s men no doubt.

Victor shook his head and frowned. Never should have trusted Dykstra, he thought. Like father like son. Dykstra had obviously been taking his orders from Gaia all along. Vee! Why did he always fall into the same trap, he thought miserably. Just when he thought he finally had control, she’d pulled the rug from under him. Now she was ordering his Head Pol around and running his city.

He reviewed his twelve years of success at bringing Icaria-5, and himself, back on its feet. When Frank Langor delivered to him Julie’s vital information about Darwin and Gaia’s conspiracy, he’d acted swiftly and ruthlessly, feeling the thrill of a teenager breaking loose to undermine her power. He’d wiped out her Secret Pol force, then rewarded Langor with the top post of Head Pol. He’d ensured that his favorite veemeld remained safe and hidden in the heath, far away from Gaia’s evil hands, and protected by Aard whose progress reports and images Victor cherished.

But he’d never played his Ace. He’d never given the Circle the information on Julie’s cube that would incriminate Gaia: such as her role in the development of the artificial virus and her manipulation of a naïve scientist to spread the virus, which then morphed and caused the worst plague humankind had ever experienced. Then there was Gaia’s personal involvement in the murders of her conspiratorial scientists Vogel and Tsutsumi, with the framing of a third scientist, Leonard Crane: all to silence them about the artificial virus, the true nature of its spread and her involvement. Add to that her indirect involvement in the murder of Kraken, the previous Head Pol because he was a loose wire and wouldn’t do her bidding and the framing of Julie Crane for that killing.

To the puzzle as to why veemelds were found immune to the effects of the devastating disease, Gaia had convinced the entire governing Circle with that cock and bull theory about how Darwin had co-evolved with veemelds through the millennia. Her speech to the Circle had been brilliant. He summoned the memory of her sitting alone with calm regality on the stage, facing the audience with arms loosely folded over her thighs, that low cut gold satin dress clinging to her slender body like a second skin, jet-black hair coiled over one shoulder:

“Animals and viruses have co-evolved over millennia,” she said, “presenting us with many examples of mutual co-existence between host and virus: rodents and hantaviruses; the green monkey and SIV, the chimpanzee and HIV-1, for instance. The Darwin virus obviously inhabits veemelds in an aggressive symbiotic relationship. We have many examples of this kind of aggressive symbiotic behavior. For instance, in the case of the ant and the acacia plant, the acacia berries supply the ants with food while the ants not only keep the foliage clear of herbivores and preying species of insects, but also make hunting forays around the tree and ravage growing shoots of potential rivals to the acacia. Similarly, the herpes-B virus, which co-evolved with the squirrel monkey in the Amazon Rainforest, induces a voracious cancer to all of the monkey’s competitors.”

It was brilliant, Victor conceded: she’d even provided the answer to why the virus morphed just then: it was Icaria’s enclosed environment that triggered Darwin, otherwise happily co-inhabiting with veemelds and hopping to a competitive genome to protect its host. But it had all been fabrication, Victor thought miserably. Vogel had created Proteus and Gaia had been there when he did. Proteus didn’t kill veemelds because its design was based on a veemeld’s genetic makeup: Julie’s. When the news got out through Zane’s lab that Darwin was made by Vogel and injected into Julie, Gaia’s fancy co-evolution theory was rejected but the woman herself suffered no other accusations. Only Vogel and his assistants, all long dead, and Julie, exiled, took the fall.

How Julie had been ill served, he thought with a wince of guilt, thanks to Gaia’s well-engineered lying machine and his own silence in the matter. Julie’s only true claim was that as
Prometheus
, she’d given some foolish scientist a false hope for a miracle virus. But in only partially disclosing Julie’s information, Victor had damned Julie as the worst abomination in Icaria’s history. To Icarians, Vogel, conveniently dead, was the evil Frankenstein who’d created Proteus and Julie was his acolyte, a banshee who’d single-handedly killed millions with Darwin then embarked on a career of sedition and murder because the disease obviously made her insane.

Considering Julie’s absence, and Gaia’s still potent presence as a member of the governing Circle of all Icarias, the decision had been easy for Victor. He’d refrained from disclosure out of self-preservation, thinking Gaia would leave him alone. But Gaia had retaliated anyway. In ways he couldn’t possibly have imagined. During her twelve-year silence, when he’d concluded that she’d found some larger prey to stalk, Gaia had calmly plotted. Stolen allies from his own men and sabotaged his city. And now he was here in the Pol Station and she was running his city again.

Victor rose stiffly from the bed. Despite its luxurious furnishings, comforts and view of the heath, the room was still his prison. Victor scrubbed his head, raking his fingers through his burgundy hair, and paced the room like a trapped animal. Since Gaia’s henchmen had forcefully brought him here three months ago, she’d re-instated herself as mayor of Icaria-5 and taken over his people. Then she’d made her move to capture Julie and obviously succeeded. What else had she done? What was she doing about the A.I. insubordination? Was that why she’d brought Julie back, to talk some sense into SAM, or worse? Gaia wasn’t known for her patience or diplomacy. And what of the virus connection? What new despicable plan did Gaia have for Julie Crane? And his Icaria? For them all?

From Frank’s implant Victor had learned that he now received orders straight from Gaia and that he still had no idea, like the previous Head Pol, that his Secret Pols were running circles around him with Dykstra at the helm. Langor was no more than a figurehead with mock power; a useful gopher. Until he eventually proved of no use, like the previous Head Pol; in which case, his fate was assured.

Victor pulled at his collar. He knew what Gaia was trying to achieve. It was the same story—she was grooming a new race of Icarians: veemelds particularly suited for a virtual existence. She’d made a study of them and she knew veemelds better than even Victor himself, who’d understood from the beginning what incredible wealth they’d brought to his city. Julie, of course, and her daughter stood alone, like no others. Who better than Gaia, who had instigated the whole thing, to understand just how unique Julie and Angel were? Proteus symbionts. Was this her ultimate new race? In order for her to promote it, the plan had to be in her favor. What did she stand to gain? Was there some connection to Proteus that was beneficial to a woman coveting power? Perhaps Gaia envisioned manipulating the virus to her benefit through a veemeld

He stopped dead in his tracks and stiffened with a disturbing thought. That was it! And a cooperative veemeld would serve best. Would Gaia go after the daughter? Knowing the mother, there was little chance of cooperation there. More chance with an impressionable, naïve, eleven-year-old, fresh from the wilderness. If Gaia had her way she’d get both mother and daughter and play one off the other. Well, he’d be damned if he would let her! His decision made, he stopped, drew in a long, ragged breath and let it all sink in. This was it. He swallowed with difficulty as if the future he plotted was too much for one man to digest.

In all his years of ruthless manipulation, deception and illicit surveillance, he’d never openly defied anyone. He’d always buckled under the slightest hint of attack, carefully avoiding confrontational situations or people, skillfully dodging any interaction that might expose his inner fears and desires. Therefore, it shook him to his core that he’d finally decided to do the one thing he most feared: openly defy Gaia and contact Julie Crane, the woman he’d secretly loved for so long. Julie had given him his city back once before but this time he would have to ask her himself. How was he going to convince the woman who’s name he’d betrayed to help him?

“Where
do you think we’re going, Dad?” Angel whispered to her father as the Pol prodded them through the bustling crowd so full of cyborgs and droids that Daniel was reminded of the over-populated inner city. Several shops were shut and a large part of the mall was not in use and shrouded in darkness.

“Be quiet,” the Pol snarled. He’d left all his friendliness behind.

Angel kept staring around her, smitten with images, smells and people who looked strange to her. Daniel had to admit some of them looked strange to him, too. He spotted a woman with shaved head and fought from grimacing in revulsion—her nose was broken and her face was a map of scars, tattoos and rings. Some new sub-culture he’d never seen, not even in the inner city, which had always been fertile ground for everything counter-culture. The woman’s rough appearance was very much at odds with Icaria’s obsession with outer beauty, he thought. Angel looked up at him and he shrugged.

As he looked away, a holo ad caught his attention: Icaria-5 openly boasted the highest proportion of veemelds in Level-1 positions on the entire planet, praising them for their intellectual prowess and leadership. Holo charts demonstrated how their numbers had transformed Icaria-5 into the most productive and self-sustaining city in North Am. Times sure had changed, he thought. Twelve years ago no one would admit they even knew a veemeld, much less liked or admired one. In fact, even he’d hated them with all his heart.

He’d once rationalized that hatred as a fear of the domination by machines in human society. Then, when he’d fallen in love with a veemeld, he realized that most of his hatred came from having been deserted by one. The very one he’d fallen in love with, ironically. Daniel wondered what he really felt about veemelds and realized that it was a lot more complicated than he’d initially thought.

He hadn’t realized he was staring when Angel asked him, “What’s a veemeld, Dad?” She’d followed his gaze to the holo.

“Uh, well,” he paused. Your mother’s a veemeld, he thought silently to himself. And you are too. “Eh, well,” he stuttered. “They’re...ah...people who—”

“Get out! Now!” the Pol bellowed. They’d reached a tube-jet car and the Pol was emptying the car by waving his gun at those who’d already seated themselves. “I said now!” He fired a shot into the car, singeing a durafoam seat.

People surged to their feet and bolted past them. Angel huddled into a chair next to her father. Thankfully she’d forgotten her question about veemelds, because after a moment of silence she whispered, “Why did he call Mom legendary, Dad?”

“Everyone in Icaria knows Mom, Angel,” Daniel whispered back.

“You mean she’s famous?” she asked in amazement.

“Yeah,” he said glumly. More like infamous.

“What’s she famous for?”

“Oh, well...” She just killed a Pol and spread the worst epidemic since AIDS or Ebola. “She made a great discovery about a bad disease that had spread in the city. Something that would help cure it.”

Speaking of Darwin, he hadn’t seen evidence of it in the city. Not in the people walking the malls or in the holo ads, as if it had simply disappeared into the walls. Had a cure been found and had Julie’s info cube been responsible for that too? If so, it was fitting that the one who started it ended it. Then why did they want her back?

Angel watched, enthralled as the tube-jet accelerated out of the station and plunged into a tunnel. Daniel tried not to think of his days as a tube-jet driver and watched the Pol instead. He looked like he was talking in a low voice to himself. Obviously communicating with headquarters through his helmet com-system. They were done for. Julie was here somewhere but they were never going to find her, because they were going straight to chaos.

He watched Angel, looking around with the wonder of a child on an adventure, not quite comprehending the seriousness of their predicament. Innocent and naïve. Julie would have a meltdown if she knew he’d brought Angel here. This was exactly why she didn’t want them chasing after her. But she was probably never going to find out because they were probably going to die quietly in the Pol Station. Then he thought again—perhaps there was a worse fate in store for Angel, if they knew about her unique talents. Chances were good that they did; they knew all about her mother, after all. Good Earth, what had he done?! He took his head in his hands and closed his eyes to the pain in his heart. They should have stayed in the heath...

The train lurched to a stop with a howling screech. They jerked forward in their seats and Angel’s wide eyes snapped to her father. “Why’d we stop?!”

“Shut up!” the Pol snarled. He’d pulled out his weapon and dropped into a combat crouch, peering into the darkness outside the train, searching for something he couldn’t see. He waved his hand over them and hissed, “Get down on the floor. NOW!”

They scrambled to the floor on all fours. Abruptly windows on both sides of the car smashed in. Shards of duraplastic hailed on them, followed by heavy thuds as four hooded men swung inside. They’d obviously been hiding on top of the train. The Pol opened fire immediately, cutting two of them down.

“The girl!” shouted one of the remaining hooded men as he tackled the Pol. While they struggled, the fourth man made a grab for Angel. Daniel draped himself over her and lashed out with his foot. The man kicked back then pulled out a gun, his hood falling from his shaven head.

Daniel sucked in a breath at the sight. The man’s face was a tangle of healed-over tears and tattoos, a misshapen nose, insane eyes and a rippled slit where someone or something had ripped off his mouth. Daniel lunged at him, knocking them both off balance, and they fell forward. The man knocked his head against a chair. The gun discharged and Daniel felt an explosion in his chest.

Time collapsed.

He vaguely heard Angel screaming and realized that he was shot. A silent weapon, but just as deadly. His last thought before the darkness took him was:
I’ll never see Julie again.