Worldkiller, p.4
Worldkiller, page 4
part #7 of Variant Series
I continued to look at him, not quite connecting the dots. "I...I don't understand."
"Ah, so Victor didn't tell you that part, then," he said, shaking his head. "He has spent decades being a thorn in our side, stealing secrets, disrupting our efforts." He looked at me. "Even killing my father."
He watched me, seeing that I already knew. Then he nodded and continued. "Yes, he's told you," he said, seeing it on my face. "He's told a lot, hasn't he? But, clearly not everything."
I frowned, staring down, recalling my conversation with Harkin, when he'd told me about VanceCorp, about who Brutus really was, about how the collapse unfolded. But he hadn't told me everything. He had kept something from me, I knew, about what triggered the global collapse...
I looked back at Henry now, eyes narrow. "Tell me," I demanded, my voice a low growl. "Tell me what you know."
He held his gaze on me, once more taking a moment to speak. He reached down, as he did so, pulling open a drawer in his desk. He drew something out, glinting silver under the light. It took me a second to realise what it was.
My locket.
He opened it up, smiling at the picture of me, as a baby, held in my father's arms, as he stood alongside my mother. "A handsome family," Henry said. He looked up to me. "Did your father give you this?"
I tensed in my chair. "Give it back," I snapped.
He pursed his lips, looking at the picture again. "Gladly," he said, taking a further moment to admire the picture, and locket itself, before shutting it, and reaching across the desk.
I stood quickly from my chair, leaning forward and snatching it from his hand. I held it tight between my fingers and immediately drew it down, out of sight.
He watched, slightly bemused. "I had no intention of stealing it, Paige," he told me. "I kept it here only to give it back to you. Now just felt like the...perfect time."
"Why?" I growled. "Because of my family? Because of someone I'm related to, someone from the past?" I let out a breath, thinking ahead. "One of the Variants who developed the weapons, is that it? That's why you think we're paired in this? Because your ancestors manufactured the weapons, and mine designed them?"
He smiled, cocking his head slightly to one side. "Close," he said. "Very close, Paige, but...not quite."
"Then what? What is it?"
He looked at me directly. "Worldkiller," he said quietly.
I frowned, recoiling from the word. It sounded almost like an...an accusation.
"You know the term, of course," he went on, "but I doubt you know what it truly refers to."
I frowned. "People like me," I whispered. "Those with enhanced intellects, like the people who designed the world-killing weapons."
"Yes, that is how the term is used, and known, among the public now. But, its original definition is a little more...specific. In fact, it refers to a single person, a single man. A man known as the original Worldkiller." He leaned in, staring at me. "The man who triggered the global collapse."
And then the truth dawned, my blood saturated by a sudden coldness. "My ancestor," I whispered. "I'm related to the man who started the war."
Henry nodded slowly. "He was a telepath," he said quietly. "The very first of his kind. An anomaly. An unexpected mutation that no one anticipated or planned for." He shook his head, expression distant. "Imagine it, Paige. Imagine what you could do, being the only telepath in the world, possessing a power that people don't know about, or even understand yet." He shook his head again, eyes growing more resentful. "You could do such good with a gift like that, and yet...yet he chose to trigger a global war, to manipulate the British government into unleashing the terrible weapons that my company, I'm ashamed to say, had developed."
He looked at me, my eyes soft as I listened. "He believed that by triggering a third world war, he'd create a brand new world where his own people would thrive." He nodded slowly. "I suppose he was right there. But now it's time to undo all that, and wipe away all the evil our ancestors have done. It is our duty, Paige, to do so. We are the children of the Worldkillers. Not just you, but me as well. That, really, is the reason you're here. To make things right. To do it...together."
I drew a breath, staring at the desk in front of me, trying to take it all in.
"We're not responsible for our ancestors, Henry," I said eventually, my voice nothing but a whisper. "That was over three hundred years ago." I shook my head, refusing to be held accountable for what this man, this Worldkiller, did. "What that telepath did was beyond awful, but it has nothing to do with me. And curing or killing all Variants is not the answer."
He stared at me, seeming...displeased with my response. I saw a mild snarl appear on his lips, a flicker of anger in his eyes. "I am...disappointed in you, Paige," he said, voice deepening. "I thought you would have more honour and integrity than this. I thought you would understand."
"Understand?" I returned. "You speak about how much good this Worldkiller could have done, and how he chose a more evil path. Aren't you doing the same? Aren't you just forcing your own beliefs onto others? Trying to create the world as you think it should be?"
"Not as I think it should be, Paige," he said firmly, his voice growing more stressed. "As I know it should be. As it has to be. If Variants are left to thrive, we will see more figures like the Worldkiller rise up. You know it's true, Paige. You know about Empress Vesper. You know about the former tyrants of New Haven. You know of the Prime and the Overseer. These figures are now gone, yes, but others will rise to take their places. Telepathic power is terrifying, Paige. And the only way of eliminating it, and others that threaten us, is by removing Variants from the equation altogether, and for good."
He stopped, breathing heavily, as I sat there reflecting on what he'd told me, knowing he wasn't going to change. Was he right? came a dangerous thought. Might there be some truth to what he was saying?
There was, I knew, but that didn't make it right. Across history, there had always been tyrants, despots, authoritarian regimes. There had been wars, genocides, religious and racial conflicts. People always found ways of taking power from others. And while, yes, I couldn't deny that dangerous figures might rise up among the Variant population, the same was true of the non-Variant population too.
We had to work together, I knew, to build a brighter, better world, just as they were on the continent and beyond. Culling one species or another wasn't the answer.
I shook my head, denying him once more. "It isn't our responsibility to try to change the past. What you're suggesting will never work. There may be some Variants out there who will willingly be 'cured', but not many. You will have to kill most of us, or otherwise force us to submit. Either way, you'll be doing exactly what your father always wanted from you. You think you're different..." I stared at him, shaking my head, "...but you're not."
His head began to slowly nod, an almost accepting smile on his lips. "I cannot say I'm entirely surprised by what you're saying," he told me. "You're far too entrenched in your own beliefs to give up on them, and commit to mine. I understand that, and I respect that. But, regardless of your philosophy, you will work with me on this, Paige." He smiled, gazing at me with a clear intention in his eyes. "For your mother's sake."
I tensed, stiffening as I sat looking at him. The threat was clear as a cloudless blue sky. "If you hurt her, I'll..."
"Oh, please," he laughed, cutting me off. "You're better than that, child. Don't be like the rest of them, issuing empty threats. There is nothing you can do to me here, and you're far too logical to think otherwise." He drew a breath. "Now, you will help me, or else those you love and care about will pay the price. That, young lady, is a very real threat, and one that I'm quite capable of carrying out."
The room silenced, giving me a moment to consider his proposition. I took several quiet, but deep, breaths, trying to clear the cloud of emotion from my mind, trying to think rationally.
Right now, I was his prisoner, and quite frankly there was no way I was going to be able to break out of here on my own. I didn't even know where I was, though suspected that I wasn't actually in Northbank. No, Harkin had once mentioned that the lab where Variants were originally created was outside of the city. If this facility was built on the same site, it was only logical to assume that I was currently beyond the boundaries of Northbank.
My friends will be trying to track me down, I thought, clinging to that hope, however unlikely it seemed right now. So long as they're still safe, then perhaps they'll be able to find me. They have one of the best trackers in the world with them in Kira. If anyone can find me, she can.
I nodded internally, keeping my eyes down, trying to remain in control. Right now, it would be better for me to play along, to buy my friends time. I still had to work with the assumption that Henry didn't know who'd returned to these shores with me. All he knew was that a reasonable contingent was somewhere in the city, and that there was a much larger army amassing on the mainland. Play ball, and I might just delay any serious interrogation on the matter.
"OK," I said, knowing I had no choice but to comply, "I'll help you, Henry." I looked into his satisfied face, trying not to react. "Why don't you show me what you've been working on."
He smiled, triumphant, and stood from his chair. "It would be my pleasure, Paige," he said, stepping around the desk, and toward the door.
5
As we stepped back out of the office, onto the gallery that surrounded the vast factory floor, I got my first good look at the security precautions in place. Around the gallery itself, I noticed the presence of a number of cloaked figures, mostly watching from the shadows where they tended to feel most at home.
I scanned carefully, spotting at least a dozen of them dotted around. There might well have been more, of course, that I wasn't seeing.
"Hard to shake off the habit of a lifetime, Paige?" Henry asked, as we moved towards the railing overlooking the factory floor.
I turned to him, frowning. "Sorry?"
He smiled and nodded to the nearest Reaper, crouched in the shadows not too far away. "You're counting them," he said. "Searching for weaknesses in security, no doubt. I suppose that's natural, given the life you've lead."
"The life you've forced me to lead, you mean," I said, correcting him.
He sighed. "Do we have to get into all that again?" he asked. "The government are the ones who have subjugated your people here, not me. I only fight the VLA because they are a threat, and will never agree to my cure. After they have been dealt with, however, along with this army of yours, I will be free to offer all Variants in this city, and across our lands, the chance to come here and be cured of their ailment. Once that is done, I will take my work further afield."
He drew a long, excited breath at the prospect, as though the end of the road was in sight. He was quite incorrigible in his passion and devotion to his vision. In that, at the very least, I had to see some merit. I didn't see him as an overtly cruel man, really. He was just...misguided.
I looked again at the nearby Reaper, my mind turning to Mantis. He didn't seem to be around. Usually, I'd be happy with that arrangement, but in this case it concerned me. No doubt he was out there, right now, trying to sniff out the rest of us.
I turned from the thought, my eyes on the crouching Reaper. "What do they think of your plan?" I asked, gesturing toward the creature. "They're made to kill people like me. Something tells me they won't like the idea of this cure of yours. It'll put them out of the job."
"A fair concern," nodded Henry casually, "but one I've already considered at length. We create and control the Reapers, but that's not to say they are completely mindless. If their purpose and very reason for being is taken away, they may become...troublesome to deal with. However, they will have plenty of work to do in the coming months and years, I'm sure. As you say, many of your people will refuse to comply. It will be down to my Reapers to deal with them."
I looked at him, a mild framing of disgust to my face. Here I was, saying he wasn't cruel, and yet his words were just so cold and callous. He was as bad as the very worst despots. He just hid it within this veneer of erasing the mistakes of the past, and making the world equal again.
I shook my head slowly, and then turned away. I was done discussing this with him. I didn't want to hear any more of his self-important rationalisations.
"So, tell me about this place," I said flatly, looking across the sprawling factory floor. There was so much going on, hundreds of workers separated into their sections. "Are you only working on your cure here, or..."
"Or?" he asked, cutting in. "You're wondering if we create Reapers here, or other such weapons, aren't you?" He shook his head. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Paige, but this isn't a production plant for armaments. It is solely dedicated to my personal vision."
How noble of you.
"I wasn't thinking that," I countered. I looked across the factory once more, finding it impossible to not be somewhat enticed by the sights, the sounds, the work being done.
Imagine the things I could do here, I thought, gazing out. The pure creative freedom such a place would give me.
Henry seemed to notice, eyeing me with a keen interest. "Quite the playground, isn't it?" he said. "Heaven for someone like you."
I shrugged, feigning disinterest. "I prefer to work alone," I said. "And of my own free will."
"And where has that gotten you?" he challenged. "Your personal designs are interesting, certainly, but ultimately amount to nothing. Your genius, I daresay, has been wasted up until now. Here you can actually make a difference, Paige, a profound difference to this world. Who knows what you'll come up with with all my resources at your fingertips."
I didn't answer. I had a vague thought of building something in secret that would help me escape, but it was only a fleeting notion. No doubt I'd be watched like a hawk here, my work monitored extremely closely. I was under no illusions that, whether my hands were chained or not, I was a prisoner here.
"Well then," said Henry, "let's get down to the factory floor and take a wander, shall we?"
He stepped away, smile on his face, leading me down the steps and onto the factory floor. He stepped cleanly, with a practiced elegance, once more exchanging pleasantries with his workforce, seemingly knowing each of them by name.
I shook my head, observing him. I would have probably preferred him to be unlikable and unpleasant, more obviously disdainful of my kind. There was a disconnect with his mostly affable, enthusiastic manner, and the sudden threats and demands, that made me feel even more uneasy. It was the unpredictability that I didn't like. He felt dishonest, sugarcoating what was, essentially, an act of genocide, dressing it up as 'saving' us and 'curing' us, rationalising things with his own warped logic as oppressors always did.
Just admit it, I thought, following just behind him. Just admit that you hate Variants, just like your father, and stop this ridiculous charade.
We moved down the centre of the factory, before turning left down one of its many aisles. We seemed to enter a section focused on research and development, rather than production, with a variety of subsections managing different projects. Each of them appeared to be working on the 'Variant Problem', perhaps seeking different ways of dealing with, or curing, my kind. Though Henry had indicated that they were moving forward with these machines that would reverse the genetic engineering effect, it looked like other options were still being pursued.
Backups, I thought, should the machines prove ineffective.
It was sensible, if that was the case. Though I didn't agree with any of this, I naturally began to consider it all through a scientific eye. Having contingencies was always sensible, should the main project end up failing, just as the 'curing' virus apparently had. It was also smart to always be seeking the 'next' solution, even if the project proved successful. Many of these other projects were likely in very early stages of development. The hope was probably that one such project would prove more efficient and effective than the current solution in development.
And that, Henry had suggested, was partly where I would come in, working on new solutions, while also helping to finalise the current project. It was strange to observe just how relaxed he was, how completely focused on his work here. Looking at the man, you'd hardly know that an army of ten thousand Variants was amassing at his door. He didn't seem to be too interested in that, in fact. And that, in turn, worried me a little.
Does he have a plan to deal with the army? I wondered, regarding him as he went. Or is this just hubris and nothing else, a belief that they'll never be able to reach these shores in the first place?
I couldn't be sure, of course, and it was certainly possible that others were taking charge of the defence of this city and island. As Henry had indicated, the Controller and his government were in charge of policy, and that likely included military action. Henry supplied soldiers, arms, and technology, but it was down to the other powers in Northbank to determine how to use them.
Or was it? I wondered, unsure. Maybe he's just being modest? Maybe he really is in control of everything here...
"OK, Paige, here we are."
My thoughts were interrupted as we reached a larger section within the R&D department, clearly central to working out any kinks and flaws in the main project. There looked to be at least two dozen scientists, technicians, and engineers here, dressed in white just as I was, working alone or in little groups at a number of different workstations.
The arrival of Henry Vance drew several pairs of eyes, though most continued to work on their operations. He likely came here often enough that his presence didn't warrant much of a reaction. In fact, only one figure stepped over, a woman of middle age who looked like she was in charge of this particular unit. While many people greeted Henry with a smile, or other such expressions to show their admiration and respect for the man, this particular woman stepped over with a rather more detached visage.
