KISS in Paradise


The captain gave a sigh of relief as the helicopter landed 
on the ship's helipad.  He waited as the corporate 
representative debarked and walked across to meet him.  
"We're glad you made it.  We've been getting radio signals 
and were not sure if we should..."

The corporate rep waved him to silence.  "Let's go in your 
cabin."

The captain escorted the rep to his cabin and closed the 
door.

The rep looked around the cabin.  "Ship X communicated that 
everything went as planned."

The captain nodded.  "We got all the passengers and the 
crew who knew nothing off the ship with no problem.  No one 
even bothered to try to use the radio.  They all meekly 
took their stuff and went to the islands."

The rep nodded.  "Ship X said you rendezvoused with them 
and unloaded the supplies." 

The captain frowned.  "They got everything, including the 
fifty crates of cookies and Hostess products.  I can 
understand the medical stuff, but why the cookies?"

The rep smiled slowly.  "You don't need to know that."  The 
sweets were for the Enforcers and their informers.  Sweets 
and cheap trinkets.  Too bad not everyone was as easily 
bought.

The captain picked up a wrapped package.  "I have a few old 
papers for you.  Dr. Xavier said it's notes by Derek, the 
assistant, and not Moreau.  Whatever that means."

"It means we're not likely to find what we seek in it but 
we find a clue."  The rep set his briefcase down and 
unlocked it.  He carefully placed the packet in his case.

The captain cleared his throat nervously.  "Sir, me and my 
crew were wondering when we could go home.  We followed 
orders, dropped off the passengers and delivered the goods.  
You promised you would have a cover story for us."

The rep nodded, hand resting in the briefcase.  "You'll be 
going home.  The corporation covers all possibilities."

"But how..."  The captain's eyes went wide and he clutched 
at the dart in his chest.

The rep fired twice more, the sound of the air pistol 
little more than a sigh.  He watched the captain collapse 
on the floor.

He picked up the CD-ROM from the briefcase and walked over 
to the computer terminal in the captain's cabin.  He 
inserted it into the drive.  Typing in the proper security 
passwords, he uploaded the new system programs and then 
nervously waited as the system ran.  

Finally the system signaled completion.  He typed in a 
delay of ten minutes and quickly gathered up all the 
evidence, including the darts.  He quickly left the cabin.

The first mate stopped him as he crossed the deck.  "Home 
office said I was to get command of this ship after this 
trip.  You guys aren't going to break your promise, are 
you?"

The rep smiled.  "Of course not.  We always take care of 
our people.  Excuse me, but I need to take the chopper up 
and do some tests before we finish here and you and the 
crew can go home."

The first mate gave him a smile and saluted.

The rep climbed back in the helicopter and secured the 
door.  "Take us up and just within sight of the ship.  Stay 
with it until I tell you otherwise."

*	*	*	*	*	*	*

The captain woke and shook his head.  He glanced at the 
clock and saw he had only been out about ten minutes.  He 
stumbled out of his cabin, roaring orders and demanding 
information on the corporate representative.

The first mate ran across the deck.  "The chopper's been 
hanging out there for the last ten minutes doing tests."

"Test my ass," the captain growled.  "The corporation's 
going to double-cross us.  Get on the emergency radio 
and..."  

A crewman burst from below decks.  "THE ENGINES ARE RUNNING 
WILD!  THEY'RE GOING TO..."

*	*	*	*	*	*	*

The rep watched the ultra-modern, completely-computer-
controlled ship explode in a giant fireball, a slight smile 
on his face.  "Okay, we're done here."

The chopper pilot nodded and turned the helicopter to head 
across the ocean to the distant corporate ship.

The rep gave a satisfied sigh.  All loose ends were taken 
care of.  The debris and bodies would convince the 
authorities they had found the 'missing' ship, and if they 
found the computer records it would show a computer 
malfunction caused the explosion and that the ship never 
left its originally plotted path.  Any search for survivors 
would be hundreds of miles away from the islands.  

Project X was safely on track.  The scientists were in 
place.  The islands had a batch of test subjects added to 
the mix.  The Enforcers were available to gather the 
specimens.  They even had several spies on the islands.  He 
wondered if Angel Rainelle was enjoying living in a tent 
instead of her comfortable expensive apartment.  He 
wondered how she would like finding out the corporation had 
given orders to include her in the experiments once her 
usefulness was over.  He wished he could be there to see 
the bitch's face when she found herself on the receiving 
end.  Maybe he would have Xavier contact him when they 
planned to use her and make an inspection trip at that 
time.  He hoped the scientists found the answer and she 
became superfluous soon.

He frowned and watched the water speed by beneath them.  
Damn Moreau.  What was his secret?  When the corporation 
bought up that bankrupt company, buried in the musty 
records had been the file that revealed that Moreau had 
convinced them to provide the money to fund his research.  
There was the whole plan, laid out for all to read.  Create 
the ultimate soldier.  The ultimate slave.  And it would 
not be slavery because they were not human.  The rootstock 
may be but if you kept the rootstock hidden on an island 
outside any country's control, you could swear you were 
combining human DNA with animals and not the reverse.  And 
it was already accepted to patent and sell animals with 
altered DNA.

You could sell second-generation Altereds.  Let the owners 
breed them.  For every new one born the owners would have 
to pay a franchise fee.  At least until the patent ran out 
in twenty years.  And by then you had another new improved 
DNA to patent and sell.  

A cash cow situation once the DNA was broken.  And Moreau 
was convinced he knew how.

So the corporation had used what few clues they had and 
modern satellite mapping and found the islands.  Sent an 
expedition.  And found Moreau had succeeded beyond anyone's 
dreams.

Except there was no trace of Moreau.  An empty trashed lab.  
Moreau was apparently a murder victim until testing proved 
the body was not him.  So they left the decapitated corpse 
where it was, the skull on the table, the diary on the 
desk.  And they searched the islands and found no trace of 
the missing scientist.

The inhabitants were a mix of altered humans and lab staff.  
They had gathered all the lab staff they could find, 
questioned them, and then used them to try to reproduce 
Moreau's results.

But every attempt failed.  Despite following every single 
step in Moreau's notes, they still failed and the specimens 
died.  The only clue, the only hint, was the mention of 
something called 'the M factor'.  Dr. Xavier was convinced 
Moreau had discovered some near-magical catalyst that would 
make human bodies accept animal DNA.  He was convinced 
Moreau called it 'M factor' after himself.  Others were not 
so sure.  But no one knew.

And after years of research, after years of kidnapping 
people who would not be missed and dumping them on the 
islands, after years of paying those beastly Enforcers to 
search the islands and bring them specimens for testing; 
they were no closer to an answer.

So it was time to drastically increase the sampling pool.  
Several hundred specimens, to infect, dissect, and study.  
And soon.  Soon they could have the answer.  And then...

The rep licked his lips.  He knew what he wanted when they 
finally went into production.  He had watched her from a 
distance.  And while he would not damage the original, to 
have a second generation to own, to love, to enslave, and 
to abuse...  A beautiful toy to do with as he pleased and 
if he damaged it too much, oh well, he could always get 
another.

After all, they weren't human.  They were only animals.  
There were countries that still allowed bullfighting.  He 
could afford to own a home in one of those and keep a dozen 
living toys.

He chuckled.  Bullfighting.  He wondered how much people 
would pay to watch descendants of Minotaur in the ring.  
The return of true gladiator games.  

It would be a new age.  One proving man's mastery of his 
world.

Once they found out what the M factor was.


*	*	*	*	*	*	*

Merrick crouched in the brush, watching the strangers.  He 
could almost remember what they were.  He could almost 
remember what the strange noises they made meant.  He could 
almost remember who and what he was.

But the Hunger ruled everything now.  He could not even 
remember what would satisfy it except it meant blood and 
pain and fear.

Once there had been a soft voice, soft hands, soft eyes 
gazing into his.  The dreams sometimes penetrated the 
Hunger.  The dreams sometimes made him almost remember.

Almost remember coming to this place.  Remember peace.  
Remember love.

Almost remember unexpected visitors.  Someone...who was 
it...soft voice soft eyes...she said stay away, avoid them.  
But he was curious.  And the one...what was his 
name...doctor...lab...conversations...friend...tests...pain
...fear.

It was all gone now.  Everything gone but the Hunger.

And the dreams.

Merrick crouched in the brush watching.

*	*	*	*	*	*	*

"I fix her," Piglet snorted to himself, squeezing through 
the narrow crevice in the rock.  "She think she can order 
me.  I fix her."

Piglet waddled along the cave, his clumsy hands clutching 
the flashlight (a special gift, payment for his loyalty, 
the batteries guarantees he would stay loyal).  He watched, 
avoiding the holes and thin spots over yawning pits.  The 
volcanic tubes were narrow, jagged edged, highly dangerous, 
and his secret.  Few could fit into most of them.  And even 
if they could travel them, the twisting tunnels were death 
traps, unmapped, confusing, and forever dark.  Anyone 
attempting them would be lost in no time and remain lost 
forever.  He somehow knew them though, as if in some past 
life he had traveled them regularly.  In his dreams he 
traveled them and upon waking could retrace those dream 
steps and see the same things he saw in his dreams, even if 
he had never gone that path before.  At least not that he 
remembered.  He suspected only one other knew their secret.

"Nicodemus," he spat.  The filthy little thieving rat-man.  
He hated Nicodemus, and he knew that Nicodemus loathed him 
for some reason.  Nicodemus was a scurrying, sniveling, 
dirty coward.  Their mutual antagonism went back as far as 
he could remember, beyond what he could remember.  The 
roots of their hate were buried in the past he could not 
remember.  

At the thought of Nicodemus he changed his route.  He had 
been away too long.  He had to know if it was still safe.

He climbed over protruding rock, squirmed through the hole 
and slid into his secret place.  Panting, he shone his 
light around.

The torn cushions still lay in the corner, augmented now by 
two pillows stolen from the strangers' camps.  Two boxes of 
individually wrapped Hostess cupcakes sat near the bed, one 
box already opened.  His payment for reports on the 
strangers.

He waddled across the floor and sorted through a pile of 
metal chains, bells, shells, a cracked mirror, a watch, 
assorted jewelry, a Walkman, several empty tin cans with 
brightly colored pictures on the outside.  

"Not here."  He looked around.  If Nicodemus had been here, 
the cupcakes would be gone.  But where was it?

He had to meet the Enforcers.  Others may learn about 
Samantha breaking a Pureblood.  If they reached the 
Enforcers first, he would not be rewarded.  And Minotaur 
would pay well for word that Darkraven had a companion, and 
had doubtlessly broken him too.

Piglet loved telling Minotaur about Darkraven.  Not only 
did Minotaur reward him generously, Piglet loved to see the 
rage burn in Minotaur's eyes.  It was fun to enrage 
Minotaur as long as that rage was not directed at him.

"I know!"  Piglet squealed and threw himself on the pile of 
pilfered clothing.  He threw aside a sundress, reached 
under a brightly colored shirt.

And pulled out a gun.

Piglet stroked the metal.  Not even the Enforcers had one 
of these.  Only They had guns.  But now Piglet had a gun.

He had been searching for more papers in the Feared Place, 
where the Beast roamed and few dared go.  But They paid 
well for the odd papers one could find there.  Why Piglet 
could not understand.  The patterns on them were not even 
pretty and they rarely had any colors.

Piglet would not have understood even before he Changed.  
The native chief had never learned to read.

But in the darkness he had met a stranger.  She had fired 
the gun at him but missed.  It had been easy to kill her.  
Kill her, take the pretty jewelry from her body, take all 
that was useful.

And now he had a gun.

Piglet pointed it at the wall as he had seen Them do.  
"Show her.  Show all of them.  One day, BAM!  Dragon gone."

*	*	*	*	*	*	*

Dr. Xavier sat on the sunny deck, sipping his drink, and 
watching the crew play.  The new supplies were safely 
stored away.  The teams had been dispatched to check with 
the Enforcers and arrange a collecting raid.  In the 
meantime, the ship crew was enjoying the chance to relax.

A shrill scream split the air.

A pity they had gone through all the trouble of collecting 
the crew of that small pleasure boat.  They had not 
expected the cruise ship so soon.  But there was no time to 
use the prisoners for anything but entertainment.  
Fortunately there had been many women on the boat.

She screamed again.

Once she was no longer useful in these types of games, they 
would use her for a more deadly sport.  And then her 
remains would be tossed over the side for the sharks to 
remove the evidence.  They had a regular following of 
sharks.  Xavier considered them his pets.  He often 
wondered if it would be possible to take his sharks with 
him when Project X was completed.

She cried loudly and without any hope of rescue.

Xavier sipped his drink and mused over the work ahead.  He 
had charted the DNA of the various Changers and Changed (as 
the Enforcers referred to them).  He knew each by the name 
Moreau had used in his journals and the name the Enforcers 
knew them by.  He liked the Enforcers' names better.  More 
colorful.

One of the men waiting his turn turned.  "Hey Professor!  
You want some of the action?"

Xavier waved away the offer.  "You boys enjoy.  I'll just 
watch."

He sighed.  Even with the DNA mapped he had no idea how to 
reproduce the results.  He knew where the changes were, 
knew what each Changer and Changed could do.  But he could 
not reproduce the results.

He knew some of them could pass their abilities on to those 
unaltered, the Purebloods.  Usually through blood but there 
was a few cases of infections through other means.  It did 
not take much to infect someone.

The 'breaking' of a Pureblood was a two-part process.  The 
altered DNA from some acted like a virus.  The DNA invaded 
the new host's body and merged in with the original genetic 
material.  The altered DNA could never be removed except in 
the lab and using methods that killed the host.  But the 
infection itself did not change the Pureblood.

The DNA and the accompanying changes were activated by a 
combination of hormones and chemicals from the original 
donor.  The Broken had to receive a regular supply of those 
hormones and chemicals or the alterations reversed and he 
returned to what he had been.  Although the virus was still 
permanently bound to the host's own DNA and was more easily 
activated the second time.  And the third.  And however 
many times.  Plus it was cumulative:  the more they 
received, the longer it affected them.  Some of the Broken 
taken from Darkraven had required a week before the effects 
of her blood diminished sufficiently for them to lose their 
wings, fangs, and Hunger.

There was evidence of multiple infections, of someone 
having more than one altered DNA merged with their own.  
But once they Changed, only one altered DNA remained and no 
other could infect them.  And only an original Altered 
could infect someone.  Second generation Altereds did not 
appear to produce the virus themselves.

They had yet to isolate the particular complex mix of 
chemicals and hormones that initiated and maintained the 
Change.  If they could just do that, the corporation could 
easily use the Altered to infect others, create the 
substances to maintain the Change, and sell the product.  
In fact, that might be a more viable market than actual 
production of new Altereds.  If the corporation was the 
only source of the chemicals that maintained the Change, 
they could guarantee their revenues.

But part of that mix had to be the M factor and they still 
had no idea what that was.  Moreau had written of adding it 
to the site of transplants, of infusing it into the 
patients.  He used a higher percentage in those he 
transplanted with tissues other than mammalian.  The 
further from human, the more M factor needed to make it 
work.

And then there was Darkraven.  Moreau had drained three 
fourths of her blood and replaced it with the mysterious M 
factor.  It had given what would have been a weak Altered 
amazing strength and endurance.

And she was the most infectious of the Altered.

There was that pattern too.  The more M factor they 
received, the more infectious was their blood.

Thank goodness that cretin Minotaur was non-infectious.  
His low IQ would probably infect anyone who got his more 
beneficial attributes.  But then none of the Enforcers were 
intelligent.  You did not want intelligent goons because 
they would not follow orders blindly even when it might get 
them killed.  

So far, the babies taken from the islands were doing well.  
Oh, they lost a couple.  Probably some special element in 
their mother's milk that they did not receive from their 
formula.  Xavier recommended a breeding program on the 
islands and that all babies be allowed to stay with their 
mother at least until weaning age.  The corporate board had 
overruled him.

Xavier sipped his drink and mused on the problem.  If he 
were a superstitious man he would almost believe that 
Moreau had gotten his hands on a vampire or something.  The 
islanders had a quaint legend about a Beast in the Mist, 
something that crept into the villages and feasted on the 
blood of the islanders, sometimes even killing them.  A 
useful legend, since somehow the Altered still remembered 
it.  So all it took to scare any of them away from an area 
was to use a set of red lights in the mist.  It would be 
useful as they began to raid the camps of the castaways.  
No witnesses, or any that did see anything would at most 
see red 'eyes' in the mist and maybe strange misshapen 
forms.  So the legend of the Beast would cover everything.

For the corporation must be protected at all costs.  No 
witnesses.  No evidence.  There was nothing on the whole 
science ship that could link it to the corporation.  Only 
Xavier knew of a means to contact someone with the 
corporation or even who the corporation truly was.  The 
others only knew they worked for a large international 
corporation, knew their specific orders, and did what they 
were told.

Only one other here knew anything about the corporation 
itself.  And soon he would take care of that problem.  As 
soon as she was no longer needed.

"Ah Angel," he murmured.  "It'll be so nice to see you 
again."  Only this time, she would not be sitting across 
from him at a boardroom table.  This time she would be his, 
all his, to play with.

He heard the woman scream in terror and smiled, thinking of 
how delicious it was going to be to hear Angel do the same.