MJ-12: Inception

20

POSEIDON lay on a gurney in his cell, his arms and legs restrained, the IV next to him dripping a sedative into his veins. The drugs were designed to last five hours; the sixth hour was spent coming out of the stupor long enough to be fed mushed-up food, like a mother would give to her baby. Then a new IV went in, and the Russian went back to an amorphous, dreamless slumber with just the barest hint of awareness.

Probably enough to drive him crazy, Danny thought as he looked down at the man.

“I wonder, Commander Wallace, how it is that the Russians, they do not miss this man. Would they not have filed a complaint or an inquiry by now?”

Danny turned to regard Dr. Schreiber with barely hidden disdain. “The Russians probably know we have him, just like they know we have Variants of our own,” Danny said tightly and quietly, as if he were afraid to wake the Variant before him. “But they want to keep their program as secret as we do ours. So, they’re not exactly going to walk on over to the State Department to ask about him.”

The two men stood in silence for several long moments before Danny turned and left, the German scientist on his heels. Danny could sense the barest hint of the Russian’s Enhancement while in the room, and it faded once he left the man’s presence. Sedating an actual Variant confirmed to Danny that he was most effective sensing Variants when they were conscious, and probably more so when they were actively using their Enhancements.

“Have you developed a plan for testing and containment yet?” he asked Schreiber. “I asked for one last week. You finally get to run experiments on a real-life Variant for yourself after all. I thought you’d be excited.”

The German shrugged. “These things take time. We do not even know what his power could be, or the extent of it. We have not finished our analysis on his blood and tissue samples. We are looking for everything possible that may tell us what the difference is between Variants and the rest of humanity.”

“But you at least have some preliminary research ideas.”

“Yes, we do. I believe we must place POSEIDON in a locked chamber with nothing else inside it, and one that can be easily flooded with knockout gas should things get, how do you say, out of hand,” Schreiber said. “Camera for observation. Let him wake up and lash out, then put him down. Repeat with test subjects nearby in case his Enhancement works on people rather than objects or his own person.”

Danny frowned. It pissed him off that this was how Forrestal and, worse, his own boss Hillenkoetter wanted to treat the man. Danny wanted to go in and talk, try to see if the guy would listen to reason, maybe switch sides. Join the good guys. That kind of persuasion was a lot harder to do when the good guys were acting like jerks.

The two walked out of the main scientific hangar toward Danny’s office. The heat was really kicking up a notch or two at Area 51, and Danny found himself coated with sweat by the time he made it to the relatively cooler shade of the administrative building. The trek was worth it, though, as no one at Area 51 was allowed to talk about classified materials outside, which meant he didn’t have to listen to Schreiber.

When they arrived inside Danny’s office, Schreiber dove in before Danny could even take a seat. “Now that we have a confirmed Variant as prisoner, I hope you will reconsider my testing proposal for the anomaly.”

“Tossing a Variant, even if he’s a Russki, into the vortex isn’t gonna happen,” Danny said with what he hoped was authoritative finality. “Period. POSEIDON goes nowhere near that vortex. Are we clear?”

“We are,” Schreiber said, looking down at his hands. “But you and I both know that these anomalies — this one and the one in Berlin — they created the Variants. This relationship must be explored somehow.”

“You’re the one who anticipated the vortex event in Berlin. You knew it would do these things. You’re supposed to have the answers, Doctor,” Danny shot back. “You tell me how that relationship works.”

The scientist leaned back in his chair. “What occurred in that bunker below the Reich Chancellery was as much a surprise to me as it was to your men.”

“Yeah, those who survived,” Danny said, rubbing his eyes. “Look. Nobody goes near it except to study it. Our guest and the other Variants don’t get involved.”

“What about the criminal? Can we not use him?”

Use him. What a way to talk about a human being, even if he was some Vegas mobster. “Use him for what?”

Schreiber shrugged and smiled. “We have, as you know, sent a dog into the vortex. The animal came out the other side as if the phenomenon weren’t even there. Since the energies from the vortex make alterations to human consciousness and physicality, it is reasonable to hypothesize that introducing a conscious, physical person to the vortex may produce a more measurable reaction.”

That prompted Danny to sit upright in his chair. “So, you want to shove that sorry son of a bitch through the vortex and see what it does to him? What happens if it fries him? Or if he undergoes Permutation?”

“If he begins showing signs of Permutation, we shall have your security people there with their knockout darts. And if he fries, as you say, well, is that any great loss?”

God damn this Nazi bastard. We’re better than that. Aren’t we? “We haven’t determined the final disposition of Mr. Timofeyev quite yet, Doctor. He’s an American citizen. At some point, we’re going to have to treat him like one.”

That prompted a dismissive smirk and a wave of the hand from Schreiber. “Commander, we both know that this man will never be released from custody. Perhaps you will charge him with something, or perhaps you won’t pretend that criminal charges will make a difference. Either way, his life is over. But he may yet be useful if we allow him to. He may even render a great service to our cause!”

“Since when have you given a damn about truth, justice, and the American way?”

“That is not my cause, this is true, but neither is it yours,” Schreiber replied. “You and I, we have one goal: to discover the truth behind these Enhancements and, if possible, unlock the potential of this vortex to empower all peoples!”

And there goes another official protest off to Hilly, Danny thought. “That’s your fantasy, Doctor, not mine. Anything else?”

“Yes, Commander. When might we have a look at the other Variants?”

“That’s not your department, and you know it,” Danny replied. That was Hillenkoetter’s one sop to Danny when Schreiber was brought on board — he literally wasn’t allowed within a football field of any Variant at Area 51. At least, any Variant Hillenkoetter knew of. “We have others studying the Variants, and you’re getting the data. That’s all you’re cleared for.”

Schreiber opened his mouth to protest, then seemed to think better of it. “Very well, Commander. Is there anything else?”

Danny shook his head and waved his hand, then picked up a folder from his desk and started flipping through the papers. Schreiber hesitated a moment, then got up and left without further comment. Danny hoped the dismissive approach would remind Schreiber of his place — and, sure, just how far he’d fallen from the days when he could buddy up with Adolf Hitler. Answering to a junior officer had to rankle a bit. Danny hoped it did, at any rate.

Besides, Schreiber didn’t know that Danny himself, Subject-1, had already been in very close proximity to the vortex — had been regularly, in fact — with zero discernible effect for nearly three years. But Schreiber wasn’t cleared for Subject-1, and Danny was quite intent on keeping it that way.

Pulling his chair closer to his desk, Danny grabbed a piece of paper and rolled it into his typewriter. While it would probably feel really damn good to fire off another protest about Schreiber, it would end up being useless. But maybe — just maybe — there was a shot at keeping the Russian Variant from becoming another scientific guinea pig for an amoral German.

He was about three lines in when he saw Detlev Bronk at his door. “How is it that you’re always furiously typing up a new report every time you meet with Schreiber?” he asked mischievously.

Danny smiled and waved him in toward the chair recently occupied by the German. “Guess he motivates me to work harder. How’s it going?”

Bronk settled into the chair. He had traded his typical business suit for a short-sleeved linen shirt and golf pants, and looked for all the world like a Florida retiree rather than one of the nation’s foremost scientists. “Anderson is really whipping them into shape nicely. They might be ready to go in a couple months.”

Danny frowned. Much as he wanted to have Anderson reassigned, the Marine remained at Area 51 — probably under Forrestal’s direct orders. So, all Danny could do was to shunt him off to the training areas as much as possible and keep him out of security matters altogether. “Side effects?”

Bronk just shrugged. “Still there. Aside from Lodge and that mythical Subject-1, who you’re keeping hidden from everyone else here, everybody seems to have side effects. No getting around it.”

“I didn’t think there would be. Any other leads?”

“No. Seems to have quieted down. We finally have a network of detectors in place, in case the vortex decides to perk up again. We’ll be able to track it anywhere in the US or Canada, and certain places in Central and South America, too.” Bronk held up a hand as Danny was about to chime in. “And yes, you’re first on the call list when we get one.”

Danny smiled. Bronk was a good guy, probably the most forward and affable on the MAJESTIC-12 program. He so very much wanted to trust him with his reservations about Schreiber, or Forrestal for that matter. Or the real identity of Subject-1.

But he didn’t. “Sounds good. Thanks.”