His workmate is moving towards the door to the decontamination chamber but Caufmann is quicker; he taps his forearm terminal, locking down the laboratory. The lab tech is scrabbling at the keypad with increasing panic while Caufmann types in a fourteen-digit command, and executes it.
The containment chamber instantly turns impossibly bright. Caufmann watches the ten-second incineration, but Rethrin and Roths avert their gaze.
Once the bright light fades there is very little left inside the chamber apart from the charred partial remains of the technicians and badly burned benches. But no remnants of any toxins are present.
Roths and Rethrin are stunned beyond speech. Caufmann slowly turns to face them but his shoulders are hunched this time and there is no pride in his stance, “I would do that to you if I had to and I’d expect the same for myself,” he pauses and takes a breath. “Now get me some more techs.”
Caufmann stalks up the hallway towards his office, barely looking up from the floor. Gossip of Rennin Farrow’s most recent shooting and Caufmann’s own forced cremation of two more technicians has spread like a virus already.
The other workers are not keen to get in his way but Caufmann could walk straight into someone and not even notice at this point. He has closed down the part of his brain that keeps up with what’s happening outside his head. He is on autopilot all the way back to his office and nothing short of God will stop him.
The door to his office flies up, he storms inside and slaps a button on his forearm terminal, slamming the door and locking it.
The lights come on brightly.
“Dim!” Caufmann screams and the lights lower to a soft glow, throwing shadows all over the room.
There’s not much clutter in his office apart from the two chairs in front of his desk, the desk itself, and his throne-like black chair. He sits in it for barely twenty minutes per day and even that time is spent mostly arguing with Rennin.
The doctor takes a shaky step forwards and feels the world leave his feet for a moment. He steadies himself by taking a breath but the pain spikes in his chest again and he stumbles back against the door with a metallic thud.
He takes his glasses off, dropping them on the floor. His bright green eyes glow against the dim light. “Three dead in one day…” he raises his hands to his face pressing his fingers against his eyes as if to hold them closed. “James Wolcott, shot. Stephen Kale and Francis Wales burned alive…” he can barely say that above a whisper.
His breaths become shorter and shorter, “Fuck!” he shouts kicking his heel against the door. He takes his hands away from his face and opens his eyes. They glow viciously against his dark sockets, looking even further recessed than they did a moment ago.
Caufmann goes over to his desk and sinks into his chair’s upholstery finding no comfort. After a moment’s respite from the world, he slaps the intercom button on his desk. The monotone voice of his assistant is heard almost instantly, “Yes, Doctor Caufmann?”
“I want Professor Danard Nordoth and Doctor Elsie Straker thawed from the stasis section immediately.”
“Chairman Van Gower has revoked all authority to remove any of the CryoGen Research Team until further notice.”
Caufmann’s eyes flare up throwing a glare across his desk’s faux wood finish, “Why is that?” he asks harshly.
The assistant pauses, “He doesn’t tell me anything, sir, I’m sorry, it’s not—”
He interrupts her, “Find out!”
“But—”
“Bah!” he yells and his veins pulse, “I’ll call him,” he slaps the intercom button on his desk, hanging up.
He leans back for a moment and takes a breath to calm himself down. His angry heartbeat can be seen pulsing beneath his lab shirt. He almost leaps out of his throne and retrieves his glasses from the floor. He puts them on to conceal his unusual eyes then returns to his seat at a slow and precise walk.
Once confident he has regained his composure, he opens a channel with the Iyatoya lunar base to his employer and CEO of Godyssey: Dacaster Van Gower.
After a few attempts at establishing a connection Van Gower’s hideous secretary appears on his screen. Del looks like a Vogue model by comparison.
Does Vogue even exist anymore?
“Yes, Doctor Caufmann?” she asks in that raspy voice that Caufmann would like to tear out with a rusted pair of pliers.
“Put me through to Van Gower,” he says barely moving his lips. The way he looks on the screen at her end is like a hungry reanimated corpse.
“CEO Van Gower is not available at this time,” she says not the least bit intimidated.
“You talk to him and tell him I’m on my way up there to see him.”
“One moment,” she says and his screen goes blank for half a minute before she reappears, “He will speak with you now.”
Caufmann doesn’t answer and clenches his jaw as an image of his employer flickers onto the screen.
Van Gower’s impossibly symmetrical face smiles blandly, “Doctor Caufmann,” as if he’s surprised, “What can I do for you?”
“I need some information from Professor Nordoth and Doctor Straker, but apparently you’ve given an order to deny anyone from thawing the CryoGen team.”
“Once they are thawed it will be very time consuming to re-freeze them.”
“I don’t understand why having them frozen in stasis is necessary at all. Their expertise would be invaluable to me.”
“The CryoGen team designed the android system as a means of an alternative way of life rather than dying of cancer or disease. They did not develop it for military application and since they founded Godyssey they have the right to close down everything we’ve done. But as acting CEO I have decided they will remain in stasis,” he says casually.
Caufmann clenches his jaw so tightly he can hear his own teeth grinding together, “They are frozen on the lower level, I’ll thaw them myself if I have to.”
“I can remotely kill them from here before the defrosting process is complete if I detect that you have.”
“I need information to complete Del’s programming errors.”
“Use a human template. We have dozens of Instinctual Clusters in storage with no bodies; any of them would work perfectly.”
“Instinctual Clusters are not required, I am not using a HolinMech system for this android.”
Van Gower’s eyes widen in near panic, “Well you are not using a CryoZaiyon system!” he says with his voice rising almost shrilly.
Caufmann mentally struggles to suppress a smile, “I’m using a different system altogether.”
Van Gower’s face turns to a frown, “You’re a molecular biologist, what are you doing building androids?”
“With this android the two go hand in hand.”
“What is it for?”
Caufmann hesitates. “It is a combat model.”
“Combat models are illegal.”
“We use them for every special forces mission! How did that happen after the universal condemnation of military grade androids? The entire solar system was strip mined for resources to fight a ludicrous war that we haven’t recovered from.”
“Twelve. We keep twelve for those missions. Hardly an army.”
“The only twelve in the world. Quite a monopoly.”
“Doctor Caufmann, listen to me very carefully. We are the biggest corporation of bioengineering in the solar system and as such have certain privileges normally denied to others. We cure cancer, we develop organic prosthetics, we are the future!” he says in a commanding tone. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten who it is you work for, despite your obvious talents.”
“I build what I want. My contract says as long as I make my professional requirements my pet projects aren’t your concern if they’re not a direct threat to the company. Either way, Del is a protector of this installation and the project was approved by the board unanimously who make up fifty-one percent of the total.”