Scott Sigler - Ancestor

Magnus would make sure things got done.

COLDING KNOCKED ON the door to Tim Feely’s apartment.

“Enter,” Tim called from inside.

Colding tried the handle and found it locked. “It’s locked, dumb-ass.”

“You know the code.”

“I don’t know the code to your door, Tim.”

“You know my computer password? Same thing, chief.”

Colding sighed. He did know that password, as did everyone else. 6969 . The high-security practices of their resident computer expert. Colding punched the numbers into the keypad mounted on the wall next to the door.

Tim sat on the couch of his tiny living room, laptop on the coffee table in front of him. Also on the coffee table, a half-empty bottle of Talisker scotch. Tim loved his scotch.

His apartment looked exactly like Jian’s, and every other apartment in the facility: about six hundred square feet of cozy space divided into a living room, a kitchenette, a bathroom and a bedroom.

“Come on, Tim. Why are you working in here instead of with Jian?”

“Because Tiny Overlord Rhumkorrf wants us to think differently.”

“Immune response test failed again?”

Tim nodded. Colding walked up to the couch and peeked at Tim’s laptop screen.

“Dude,” Colding said. “Is scotch and Tetris really part of thinking different?”

Tim shrugged. “Apparently my brain isn’t really worth anything. I might as well explore new territories, like a good buzz and a high score.”

“Oh come on. Your wallet should be embroidered with the words smart motherfucker . How did Rhumkorrf handle it?”

Tim paused the game, took a sip of his drink. “Rhumkorrf is a douchebag, man. A real douchebag.”

“I don’t see that,” Colding said. “He’s just an intense guy.”

“He’d sell you out in a heartbeat if it got him what he wanted. He’d sell any of us out.” Tim and Rhumkorrf had clashed from the beginning. Tim did a good job of pushing down his dislike and playing his role. Mostly. “Know what really burns my ass?”

“What?”

“That Jian is doing the real work. So is Erika. But Rhumkorrf is going to get the lion’s share of the credit.”

“You gotta let it go,” Colding said. “We’re here to save lives, change history. Not for glory.”

“Hah. I’m in it for the money.”

Colding felt a stab of anger, but he shoved it away. Maybe Tim was kidding, maybe not. Didn’t matter. As long as Tim helped make the project a success, he could have whatever motivation he liked.

“Should I check in on Rhumkorrf?”

Tim shrugged. “If you like being in the presence of a walking, talking asshole, that’s your business. He’ll be in the genetics lab, no doubt. But why do that when you can park your ass for a few and have a drink with me, brotha-man?”

“I should check in on everyone first. Maybe I’ll have one later tonight.”

Tim shook his head. “Naw, can’t do later. I’m… I’m kind of taking a break now, but in a few hours I’ll be locked down in here. Really getting into the research, you know? Tim needs his alone time. And before you ask, I checked on Jian and she’s fine. And also, before you ask, I’ll make sure she takes her meds in a little bit.”

“Gosh, it’s like you have ESP or something.”

“That or a basic short-term memory,” Tim said. “If you’re not going to get tanked with me, kindly move along so I can make Tetris my digital bitch.”

Colding gave a half-assed salute, then walked out of the apartment.

Just as Tim had predicted, Rhumkorrf stood alone in the genetics lab, staring at a wall-sized screen full of nothing but black squares.

“What’s up, Doc?”

Rhumkorrf turned, eyes tight with anger, but seemed to relax a little when he saw Colding. “I fear I am not in the mood for your cartoon references today, my friend.”

“Sufferin’ succotash,” Colding said. “That bad?”

“Yes, that bad. We’re at an impasse. I’m convinced we’re missing something relatively obvious.”

“Did you try turning it off, then turning it back on?”

Rhumkorrf glared, then laughed. “If only it were that simple. Is Bobby still here? I could use some flying time to forget all of this.”

“Sorry, he had to take off. If it’s any consolation, he left four new samples.”

The little man sighed. “Well, who knows. Maybe the answer is in one of those. Please ask Tim to process them right away.”

“Tim is very busy,” Colding said. “Said he had a puzzling issue.”

Rhumkorrf rolled his eyes. “You’re a horrible liar. Tetris again?”

Colding nodded.

Rhumkorrf rubbed his eyes. “Have Jian process the samples. The work is beneath her, but maybe she could use the change of pace.”

“Speaking of Jian, Doc, her nightmares are getting worse.”

“Oh? How often? More intense?”

Rhumkorrf’s words came out fast and clipped. He even sounded a little excited. Colding often wondered if the man saw Jian as a person or as a set of symptoms, just another scientific problem to be solved.

“Three nights in a row,” Colding said. “I can’t really say if they’re more intense.”

“Any hallucinations?”

“I don’t think so. Should you change her dosage again?”

Rhumkorrf shook his head. “No, we need to let the most recent change run its course, see if it corrects the situation before we introduce an additional variable.”

“But she’s sleeping less and less. I’m worried about her.”

“You worry about everyone and everything,” Rhumkorrf said. “Trust me, I’ll make adjustments before she becomes suicidal again. We can’t lose Jian, now can we?”

Colding chewed on his lower lip. Rhumkorrf was the doctor here, and he’d helped Jian before. Maybe the little man was right, maybe these things just took time.

“Okay,” Colding said. “I’ll give Jian the samples and have her process them. How about you? Can I get you anything?”

“Do you have a Nobel Prize in your pocket?”

“No, that’s not a Nobel Prize, I’m just really glad to see you.”

Rhumkorrf laughed again, then pushed Colding out of the lab.

THE FIVE PEOPLE in Genada’s plush meeting room made for quite the Fortune 500 photo op. Two men and a woman from America, one playboy Brit entrepreneur and one Chinese shipping mogul. Both of the American men had made billions in technology—one in software, the other with a search engine—while the woman had turned her family’s small line of hotels into the world’s second-largest chain.

The shipping mogul was the biggest risk. If word got back to the Chinese State Council, Danté would have much to answer for. They expected to be the sole investor in this project. When it succeeded, the Chinese government would have a way to help its estimated 1.5 million citizens waiting for an organ transplant. With only about a hundred thousand potential donors annually, the People’s Republic was desperate to do something to help its populace. The situation was so bad that human rights organizations claimed prisoners were being killed to harvest their organs. China needed a solution. Rhumkorrf’s project was it.

Still, the shipping magnate hadn’t become one of the richest people on the planet by running his mouth about exclusive investment opportunities. He’d be fine. At least, Danté hoped he’d be fine.

Danté greeted the billionaires, gave his most charming smile, then got down to business. “Genada has a cash-flow issue with a critical project. We need capital and we need it now. That gives you a window of opportunity. You’ve all signed nondisclosure agreements, so I’ll just cut to the chase.”