Sabretooth put the girl on the table indicated by
the technician and stood glowering down at him. The technician removed
the fur rug from the girl's body. He gently turned her over and, with
a pair of scissors, he cut the cloth which bound her wrists. He
straightened her body and fastened the restraining straps across her
wrists and ankles. He fastened another across her waist, but left the
chest strap off. He removed the make-shift bandaging from her back,
hastily replacing it with gauze pads and applying pressure as the
wounds started bleeding again.
"Hey, Jerry! Give me hand here, it's a mess!"
Another technician entered from a side room, followed by an older man who paused only
long enough to make certain the technicians had the situation under control.
"Mr. Creed, I believe our contract stated that the specimen be delivered alive."
"Yer frail is alive, Richardson. The contract didn't
say nothin' about deliverin' her intact."
"The specimen is of little use to me in this condition."
"You are gonna be of little use to you if yer
thinkin' of reneging on our contract." Sabretooth snarled.
"Of course not, Mr. Creed," Richardson hurriedly
reassured him. "You will be paid as we agreed." He cleared his throat
nervously. "Mr. Jones tells me you had some difficulties in retrieving my specimen."
"None ta speak of. That moron you saddled me with
flubbed the snatch. That's how she got hurt." He grinned suddenly,
"Yer gonna have trouble hangin' on to her, though."
"What do you mean?"
"The guy she was running with is a stubborn bastard. He won't quit 'til he's found her."
"Why?" Sabretooth stared down at him.
"Why? You just spent one hell of a lot of money havin' me retrieve the girl, an'..."
"Please, Mr. Creed. Number thirty-six is not a
'girl'. It is merely a laboratory animal. A very valuable animal, I
will admit, but an animal just the same."
"Yeah? Well, he ain't gonna see it that way."
Sabretooth placed a companionable, and intimidating, arm about
Richardson's shoulders. "Ya see, Logan's got this habit o' gettin'
... attached ta people."
"But thirty-six isn't a person," Richardson said.
"It's not human by any stretch of the imagination. Why, its not even a true mutant."
"Then what is she?"
"It," he answered, stressing the word, "is a genetic
construct. I gathered tissue samples from mutants all over the world.
Then I spliced the mutated chromosomes together and implanted them in
an unfertilized human egg. The resultant zygote was placed in an
artificial womb where it was put through a forced growth process. The
entire process takes approximately one year from implantation to
hatching, at which time you have the equivalent of an eleven or twelve
year old human." He looked up at Sabretooth. "Being prepubescent, they
are still quite malleable and eager for training." He sighed.
"Unfortunately, many of the zygotes proved to be unviable. And of
those that did survive, number thirty-six is the only one to
successfully endure adolescence. It proved to be a particularly hardy
specimen." He gestured toward the two technicians, still bent over
the motionless girl, "You'll notice that they are taking no
precautions to prevent contamination of the wounds. That is because
it is not necessary. Its immune system is so highly developed that
even deliberately introduced pathogens have no effect. I
believe...David, hand me that chart." The first technician handed the
suture to Jerry and picked up the chart, handing it to Richardson.
"Yes, I thought I remembered that," he said, opening the chart to one
of the first pages. "Right here, Mr. Creed." He pointed to a list of
names. "Your tissue was included in the creation of this one."
Sabretooth looked at him sharply, then looked more closely at the list
of names. "I had hoped that it would inherit your healing ability,
but apparently, it did not." Sabretooth located his name about half
way down the list which included such mutants as Jean Grey, Elizabeth
Braddock (Psylock), Emma Frost (The White Queen), Charles Xavier, Alex
Summers (Havoc), Rogue, and many others. Sabretooth whistled. No
wonder this kid was a telepath.
"Quite an impressive heritage, don't you think? I
believe, however, that it will be necessary to mix normal human genes
with the mutated genes for the next batch. I've begun gathering the
tissue samples I will need." He looked at Sabretooth speculatively.
"Would you consider letting me have a sample of your tissue? All my
remaining samples were destroyed when the specimen was stolen. I would
be more than happy to compensate you for it."
"I don't think so, Richardson," Sabretooth said
vehemently. "My son's nothing but trouble, and this one...No, I don't
want any more little Creeds runnin' around, 'specially if I don't know about it."
"Really, Mr. Creed. You must stop thinking of the
specimen as a human. I was hoping to isolate the healing factor this
time. It would be interesting to see how extensive the healing is."
"No."
"Very well," Richardson said, obviously
disappointed. "If you will come with me, I'll see that you receive
your payment." He closed the chart and placed it on the table by
Star's head. "Keep me posted, David," he said, over his shoulder.
"Of course, Dr. Richardson." Richardson and
Sabretooth left the room. Jerry turned to David and said,
"Boy, he's a cold one."
"You're new here. You learn in a hurry to stop
thinking of these things as human." He looked up from the wound he was
suturing, "I've been here since he started this project eight years
ago. If you'd seen some of the monsters that came out of the hatchery,
some of the worst from the same batch as this one, you wouldn't have
any doubt that this," he pointed at Star, "is not human."
"She looks human enough to me."
"Take a look at her chromosomes some time." They
tended Star's wound in silence for a few moment.
"What are the straps for?" Jerry asked.
"What do you think?"
"But she's not even conscious. It'd be easier to
check her out if she wasn't strapped down."
"Look," David said, exasperated. "This thing killed
a dozen grown men when it was barely a year out of the hatchery, and
from the glimpse I got of that ex-cop, it gave him and that merc a run
for their money. I don't intend to take any chances. Now, shut up and
hand me that suture."
"What about the head wound?"
"It's not bleeding anymore. After we're finished
here, you can take it down to X-ray. With any luck, the big guy
smashed its skull and we won't have to worry about it waking up."
Jerry stared at him.
"Shut your mouth and hand me that damned suture. It
wouldn't break my heart if this thing dies, but I don't want it to be
my fault." Jerry handed him the suture.
[ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 ]
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