Merrit's colleagues from college would be dismayed and shocked to learn that she was working for the government — the Pentagon no less. It had not been an easy choice, but the alternatives had been bleak. After graduating with her doctorate in bioengineering, Merrit had worked briefly as a lab researcher at the University of Texas at Austin. That job had lasted for four years, during which time she had started earning a closed-circle reputation for brilliance, supported by the ability to do the thorough, tedious work to back up her ideas.
Initially, for personal reasons, she had spurned several offers from various government agencies to put her talents to work for them. It was only after the university lost its federal research funding for farm animal genetic engineering that she was forced to consider government work. She finally took stock of the current state of scientific research in the United States, and was dismayed by what she found. Pure research in America was at a level less than 10 percent of what it had been thirty years before. A budget-conscious Congress had seen to that.
The ability, or desire, of universities and corporations to fund such research was also very low if the research did not point to an immediately usable solution to a problem — a profitable solution at that. The nebulous goals of pure research made it an undesirable field for investment of capital. This was despite the fact that pure research laid the foundation for the more immediate and practical findings. Like a slow-acting leukemia, the lack of funding for pure research was deteriorating the lifeblood of American industry, which relied heavily on research and development to be competitive in the international arena.
Despite her blossoming reputation, Merrit had had difficulty in her search for a new civilian workplace. Compounding the problem was the fact that stringent animal experimentation requirements, forced upon the research world by animal rights groups pressuring the government, made it almost impossible to conduct the live-animal research necessary to genetic engineering.
Faced with the dual challenges of lack of available research sites and the federal limitations, Merrit gave in and listened seriously to Doctor Ward when he came to her with a pitch for a job.
The concept for the project at Biotech Engineering sounded relatively harmless but fascinating and challenging. The proposed budget, lab setup, and freedom from federal limitations were strongly attractive. Merrit had long nourished a radical concept in bioengineering, and Ward's proposal seemed to open the door to pursue that dream.
Only after she had signed on and started working at the lab did Merrit realize that Ward had twisted the truth. Yes, she was doing quite a bit of interesting theoretical work and valid applied experimentation. And, yes, this work was on the cutting edge of genetic engineering. But Merrit did not feel comfortable with the end result.
The purpose of the Synbats repelled her. Still, the advances they were achieving fascinated her. They were beyond the current scope of biological engineering, exploring uncharted territory. If Ward had ever stopped to see what they had truly achieved, Merrit thought he would realize, as she did, that they had moved beyond the realm of present understanding and, she felt, far beyond the requirements imposed by the Pentagon.
For the past year Merrit had lived on an emotional edge regarding her work. On the one hand, she knew that the theoretical findings would be invaluable once released to others in the field under the Freedom of Information Act. On the other hand, she also knew that the actual practical work done at Biotech would never be released to the public. The fact that they had initially been so far from the specifications desired by the Pentagon had given her false comfort. She had no way of knowing that Ward was falsifying his reports to General Trollers to keep the project going. Naively, she had waited for the budget plug to be pulled. It was only after she had tapped into Ward's personal files in the computers that she discovered his deception to both her and their military bosses. She saw then that the Synbat project would not be terminated anytime soon.
Merrit felt that they had stumbled onto something very significant in the Synbats — significant in a way that no one else in the project truly understood, or even cared to. Ward was too concerned with keeping his funds flowing and meeting the statement of requirements dictated by the Pentagon. Merrit alone had focused on what they had developed, and in doing so she had noticed some strange quirks in the data and, even more important, in the actions of the Synbats.
The situation had come to a head less than three months ago when Ward had gone to Washington for a week-long conference. Up to that point, they'd kept the Synbats heavily sedated to make them more compliant. The extreme aggression of the creatures had always been a major concern. Without sedation they were not trainable or controllable. Even with it, they were extremely dangerous, as evidenced by the events of last night. As Merrit had discovered from the computer, Ward had not reported that problem to the Pentagon; he was hoping that they could do something in the next generation to make the animals more tractable yet capable of performing as the Pentagon expected — an almost impossible set of contradictory requirements.
During those five days that Ward was gone, Merrit had held back the sedatives to see how the Synbats — now full-grown adults — would react without its numbing effect. The results had been startling and disturbing. She'd shown Ward the videotape, but he'd insisted that they keep it quiet or else face the loss of funds from the Black Budget.
At that point, Merrit had tried quitting. Despite her limited job options outside of the government, she had had enough. At last, she admitted to herself that she was terrified of what was happening in the lab.
Unfortunately, she had found out that quitting was not as easy as making an announcement. Ward felt her to be indispensable to the project, and the Defense Intelligence Agency had sent a representative to Merrit to clarify her position in no uncertain terms, pulling out the original work agreement she had signed when starting at Biotech.
The agent had explained it succinctly. The DIA would see to it that she didn't work for any research facility receiving federal funding. That meant she would either continue to work here or not work in the field at all. Additionally, any work she did on her own would have to be processed through the DIA's Research Supervision Office to ensure that nothing in it was related to any of the classified work she had done for the government. In other words, she could do nothing on her own. With that brief one-way conversation, the DIA had effectively nailed her to the job at Biotech.
Yet for the first time in many months she felt hopeful. Ward had upset the DIA by not blowing the collars on time. That and the three bodies had probably sounded the death knell for Biotech Engineering and correspondingly freed Merrit from her prison.
But three people were dead! The project should not have turned out this way. If they'd only listened to her. The world had enough problems without adding this unholy experiment, the exact ramifications of which not even its creators knew.
Riley was preparing to recross Williams Hollow Creek when he halted. Something on the far side caught his attention. He squatted down and scanned the bank, trying to focus. The sun had finally broken through the clouds and he was sure he had seen the light reflect off something. He heard the two nonteam members of the party come up behind him, breathing hard.
"What's the matter?" Ward puffed.