In Death 21 - Origin in Death

behind them would wait until she got through the doors marked GESTATION.
    Prayed that her courage wouldn't fail.
    At last the light glowed green. She heard the swish of air as the doors opened into an airlock. What she saw through it, through the glass, drained the heart out of her.
    She made herself go in, made herself look.
    While her vision blurred with tears, the monster, dead for a decade, stepped into the white stream of light.
    Jonah Delecourt Wilson was fit and handsome and no more than thirty. In his arms he carried a sleeping infant. One hand held a stunner and was pressed to the child's throat.
    At his feet was the body of a young Wilfred Icove.
    "Welcome home, Deena. It's a testament to both of us that you got this far."
    Instinctively Deena pushed Diana behind her.
    "Saving yourself?" He laughed, and turned the baby to the light. "Which one of yourself will you sacrifice? Infant, child, woman? Fascinating conundrum, isn't it? I need you to come with me now. We don't have much time."
    "You killed your partner?"
    "Despite all the work, all the adjustment, all the improvement, he proved to be inherently flawed. He objected to some of our most recent advances."
    "Let her go. Give the baby to Diana, and let them go. I'll go with you."
    "Deena, understand I've terminated my closest associate, the man- well, men, as there are two more of him equally dead-who shared my vision for decades. Do you think I'd hesitate to kill any of you?"
    "No. But it's wasteful to kill the children. It's wasteful to terminate me, when you can take me, use me. Study me."
    "But you're flawed, you see. As Wilfred proved to be in the end. And you've cost me beyond measure. All this, about to be destroyed. Two generations of progress. Fortunately, I have countless generations to rebuild it, improve it, then see it flourish. You'll all come with us, and be a part of that. Or you'll all die here."
    Another stepped out of the opposite door, and had a sleepy toddler by the hand. "Keep your hands up," he ordered her, and stepped forward.
    "Transportation's waiting for those selected," the first told her.
    "What of the rest?"
    "Once we're clear? Fail-safe. A difficult sacrifice. But we understand difficult choices, don't we? We have all the records we need, and the funds, the time to rebuild. Move forward."
    As she did, Diana pulled the laser scalpel out of her pocket and aimed it at the eyes of the one holding the toddler.
    The little girl screamed, and began to wail when the man holding her hand convulsed and fell. Equipment exploded as Diana swung the beam. Even as Wilson returned fire, Deena shoved Diana to the ground, then dove toward the younger child. As she scooped the toddler up, spun, she saw Wilson, and the infant, were gone.
    "Take her." She pushed the screaming child-her child-into Diana's arms. "You've got to take her. I've got to go after him. Don't argue! Just listen. Someone must be trying to get through-all the fire we heard."
    "You're hurt."
    "It's nothing." Deena dismissed the burn on her shoulder, and pushed past the pain. "You get her to safety. I know you can. I know you will." She pulled Diana into her arms, kissed her, kissed the little girl. "I have to stop him. Now go!"
    She sprang up, ran out of the nightmare, and into hell. Diana struggled to her feet under the weight of the child. She had the laser still, she thought, and would use it again if she had to.
     
    THEY SHOULD SPLIT UP. TIME-SAVING, MORE
    efficient, but the risks were too many. Her hip was a low, continual scream, but Eve kept moving, kept moving.
    At every fork, every turn, every doorway, she braced for the next assault.
    "There may be little else in direct defense. You'd assume with the level of security above, and the defense here, no one would get through."
    Rather than finesse, he blasted the locks on a door marked EXPERIMENTAL STUDIES.
    "Mother of Christ," he whispered as they saw what was in the room.
    Medical trays, preservation drawers, tanks filled with clear liquid. In them were fetuses at various stages of development. All were deformed.
    "Defects," Eve managed while her blood ran cold. "Failures or defective results, stopped when defects were observed." She studied the electronic charts. Something worse than sickness was clogged in her throat.
    "Or they were allowed to develop further, even created this way, so they could be studied. Experimented on," she said, swallowing bile. "Kept viable until they were no longer useful."
    There was