“Senator, it wasn’t Roen. I haven’t seen him in months,” she replied, reflexively touching the cut on her face. “It’s just a little mishap with heels.”
He gave her a doubtful look. “You’re either lying to me or you should be banned from wearing heels ever again. It seems to happen a lot with you.”
After the small talk revolving around her pitiful alibi was over, she laid out Simon’s proposal in the most lukewarm fashion she could muster, glossing over the offer and stressing prudence. On the surface, Simon’s deal was very attractive. He had effectively offered her boss everything he ever wanted in exchange for the support of an issue he really didn’t care about: the South Seas Trade Sanction. In any other circumstance Wilks would consider this a major coup.
It was Jill’s job as Wilks’ policy director to encourage the deal, but it was also her job as a Prophus political operative to oppose it as well. She needed more time to figure out what angle the Genjix were really after. Wilks wasn’t stupid though. He knew a good deal when he saw one.
“You’re reaching there, counselor.” He wrinkled his brow. “You don’t usually come to me with such half-assed arguments. What’s going on? Why do you care so much about these sanctions?”
“I can give you a full account shortly,” she said defensively. “I just need some time. I’m just asking you to postpone agreeing to the deal until then.”
Wilks shook his head. “I don’t know, Jill. It’s a more than fair offer from the other side of the aisle. I see no downside to the deal.”
“Just give me some time to analyze this and come back with recommendations. Maybe I can leverage this offer for something even better,” Jill stressed.
“Fair enough,” Wilks said. “Hogan offered me a sweet deal. You give me a legitimate reason to turn him down and we’ll talk.”
Jill nodded. “Thank you, Senator.” She left his office and signaled to Tammy, her assistant. “Find me everything you can on the South Seas Trade Sanctions. I need to know who’s for it, who’s against it, and how it affects our trade barriers.” Then she left for the next round of her morning meetings on the Hill. Now the real battle began.
SEVEN
ELEVATION
For eons, the Quasing functioned as one mind, following the will of the Grand Council, until the Prophus betrayers splintered from the collective. They claim our way was ill-suited for these humans, that we walked a moral precipice.
After millions of years as gods blessing the worthy species of this planet, I find their sudden moral apprehension feeble and hypocritical. After all, we determined the fate of the species of this planet when we first came. Who else but gods can claim such a role?
Zoras
Saldhana, flanked by the contingent of guards, entered Devin’s penthouse office at the Genjix research facility in Qingdao, China. Zoras had to admit, he was uneasy. Transitioning to a new vessel carried risks. He had chosen well, though. His handpicked Adonis Vessel was one of the highest-rated humans ever at the Hatchery. In fact, Zoras had to contend with three others on the Council for this vessel.
Stand at the door. On my order, leave the room.
“As you command, Holy One.”
Enzo stood at the window, looking out at the Genjix Research campus. Half of the honor guard stayed outside Devin’s office while the other half spread out around the room, guns trained on the vessel. Tension filled the air as the ceremony began. Palos and Amanda came in last and took position on opposite corners of the room. On their signal, the guards would shoot Enzo unless Zoras provided the release command.
This was Zoras’ safeguard. Early in the program, several Adonis Vessels, raised to believe themselves gods, were mentally unstable and ignored their Quasing’s orders. Now, in the third iteration of the program, the Hatchery had optimized the perfect blend of education and physical training for these high-valued vessels.
Enzo looked relaxed, albeit a bit curious. “I have been summoned by Father Devin. Where is he?”
Zoras studied his new vessel; Enzo had control of the room without even saying a word. His face was calm, his chest palpitations normal, and he seemed at ease. Adonis Vessels were never informed of the transition, but the Hatchery did not raise fools.
Enzo’s eyes trailed from Palos to Amanda, then he nodded. “I see. Praise to the Holy Ones.” Those in the room echoed the sentiments. “And to Father,” he added softly. He closed his eyes and murmured a blessing to Devin. So far, Enzo was saying all the right things. The room remained dead quiet as they waited on him. Yes, the boy had gravitas.
“I am ready,” he nodded.
Saldhana knelt down in the center of the room and recited a prayer to every Genjix he had ever met, which to his credit, was quite a few. Zoras was satisfied with him receiving the honor of being the transfer vessel. He had been with Palos’ detail for over a decade and had worked under Devin for fifteen more years before that. It was a fitting end to a loyal Genjix agent.
With feverish devotion, he kissed Enzo’s hand. “I bring you the god to infuse your body. May you serve the Holy Ones well.”
Then Saldhana took out a serrated knife and disemboweled himself. His body shook as he dragged the knife across his abdomen with painstaking slowness. Zoras appreciated this final gesture.
The transfer ceremony, created by the Genjix in Japan over eight hundred years ago, was a time-honored tradition. The longer and slower the death, the gentler the transition for the Quasing. Sudden ejections from vessels were painful. The lingering bleed of life pushed them out of the body in much more comfort.
Saldhana’s body shook with pain as his mind screamed with agony. Zoras flashed several images of the first time he took a bullet for Devin during the assassination attempt in Cairo, and of the time he was elevated to his personal detail. Then he flashed several more imageries, a montage of his years of service. Then finally, Zoras flashed Saldhana the rise of the Genjix, overwhelming his brain with the entire history of the Genjix through Zoras’ eyes in a matter of seconds. Such overload often disoriented and dulled the pain.
Your standing is high. Begin your elevation.
It took Saldhana forty minutes to die. The last image he saw was Quasar, the closest thing to heaven the vessels believed in. Finally, he spasmed one last time and his body slumped over the large pool of blood in the center of the room. At the same time, Zoras felt a soft pull, as if a gentle ocean wave, move him away from the body.
Everything went black and then Zoras awoke hovering over Saldhana’s body. His sparkling form, a gaseous stratus cloud, expanded and contracted as he floated in the air. It was the second time in so many days he had been exposed to the planet’s atmosphere. Zoras made one loop around the room and then blanketed Enzo, who had waited patiently all this time with hands raised toward the ceiling. Tiny bursts of white light spread all over Enzo’s body, permeating his skin until Zoras once again felt the warm cocoon of a vessel.
Enzo gasped and fell to his knees. His stomach churned and he threw up his last meal. His vision blurred as his eyes watered, and he had to take deep breaths to stop himself from passing out. Quasing integrations had always been painful to the beings on this planet. Over the course of several minutes, Zoras waited until Enzo’s shocked nervous system relaxed and his heart rate slowed.
Rise.
Enzo lifted his head in exaltation, basking in the voice of a god. “Your command, Holy One,” he called out.