Chapter 15 Losham
LOSHAM
The guards at the external posts straightened as Losham and Rami passed them by on their way to the lab.
His personal guards walked ahead and behind him.
Navuh would not have walked the short distance from the mansion to the lab. He would have asked his assistant to summon a car with a driver, and there had been wisdom in that beyond the performative. Walking left Losham more exposed, but he refused to show fear.
Choosing to walk instead of taking a car was in itself a show of force.
Rami pressed the intercom, and a moment later, the lock disengaged and he pushed the lab door open.
Inside, the lab was bright with midday sunlight, and the scientists looked up at them with twin apprehensive expressions.
The girl sat on a chair by the window, with a book open on the table beside her and her injured hand propped on a folded lab coat. She watched Losham with the wary stillness of a small animal that had not yet decided whether it was better to run or to freeze and play dead.
"Good afternoon," Losham said. "I came to check on your progress."
"Of course." Dimitri set down whatever he'd been working on. "What would you like to know?"
"Where do you stand with the human enhancement formula?" He sat on one of the stools while Rami remained stationary by the door.
"We're making progress." Dimitri's tone was professional, modulated to convey competence without overpromising.
It was a tone Losham recognized from every subordinate who had ever stalled for time while trying to appear productive.
"The theoretical framework is solid because we are basing it on the same protocol we use for Dave, but some of the compounds are too dangerous for humans even in small amounts.
The challenge is calibrating the dosage to start testing without killing our test subjects. "
"You have three weeks left on the timeline I gave you."
"I'm aware. And I believe we can have a viable proposal ready by then. Not a finished formula, that would take months, possibly years of clinical testing, but a proposal that outlines the mechanism, the projected outcomes, and the recommended next steps."
"A detailed proposal," Losham said. "I don't want something general that spells out nothing. I want a concrete course of action."
"I understand, but a formula without proper testing would be useless at best and lethal at worst. I assume you don't want dead test subjects."
It was a bold statement, bordering on insolent, and Losham noted it. Dimitri was growing comfortable. The question was whether that was because of his developing relationship with Dave or simply the natural confidence of a man who knew he was too valuable to punish.
Both possibilities were concerning.
"I want results," Losham said. "A proposal is a starting point, not a destination. Make sure it is compelling."
"It will be."
"Very well." Losham stood. "By the way, I have been informed that the Eight have been spending more time than usual in the lab. What is the reason for that?"
The slight tightening of Dimitri's shoulders told Losham more than any excuse either scientist could come up with.
"They are curious," Dimitri said. "They want to know about the world."
Losham arched a brow. "They do?"
"Yes. Doctor Petrov and I have realized that we failed to take into account the psychology of the subjects.
We did not know anything about them, and we didn't ask because we were told to deliver chemical results.
But the body and mind are inseparable, and one influences the other.
It is important that we talk to the Eight and treat them as people. "
That made sense and even explained the involuntary tension he had detected in Volkov's shoulders when he'd asked about the new relationship with Dave. The Russians had been told not to ask questions beyond what was absolutely necessary. They had probably been afraid to ask Dave too many questions.
"Who came up with the idea for the walk after dark?" he asked.
"That was Dave," Dimitri admitted. "Frankly, I was a little scared of walking with them to places that were not covered by surveillance cameras, especially after Mattie and I were attacked, but it turned out to be quite pleasant."
"Pleasant." Losham chuckled. "I wouldn't describe any interaction with Dave as pleasant. They are creepy."
Behind him, the girl snorted softly.
He turned around. "I see that you agree with me."
She nodded. "That perfectly synchronized way they do everything is creepy as heck."
He tilted his head. "Are you scared of Dave?"
"No. Dave saved my and Dimitri's lives. They are my heroes."
Losham wasn't sure he liked the admiration in her tone.
"The best approach with Dave is cautious respect." He smiled. "After all, they are vicious killers."
He headed toward the door without waiting for a response.
On his way back to the office, he thought about Dave's words.
People will do far more for those they care about than for those they fear.
It was true, but it wasn't a very helpful observation.
Losham needed to assert his influence on the population of the island, and being nice to everyone wasn't going to do it.
"Get Dave over here," he told Rami when they were back in his office. "I need to talk to them. All eight, not just Number One."
"Yes, my lord." Rami inclined his head.
A few minutes later, the Eight came in. Filing into his office, they stood in a loose formation in front of his desk, eight bodies occupying a space designed for two visitors at most.
The room felt suddenly very full.
"I have a task for you," Losham said.
Eight pairs of eyes regarded him with identical measured attentiveness.
"My father maintained control over the island through his compulsion.
Every day, his voice carried over the loudspeakers, reciting the devotions.
We are still doing this, but those are just recordings of his voice, and they don't carry the same power.
" Losham paused. "I do not have my father's ability, and neither do you, but together, we might have something comparable. "
All eight of Dave tilted their heads at the same angle, and Losham couldn't help but think of Mattie's remark about how creepy that synchronization was.
"What would you like us to do?" Number One asked.
"I want you to make rounds. Every day. Visit the barracks, move through the common areas.
Talk to the warriors. And while you talk to them, do what you do.
Thrall them. Compel them. Influence them in that particular way that you have.
" He leaned forward. "I need the warriors to be loyal to me, not my brothers, and not even to my father.
My brothers have been whispering to their factions, building their own loyalties, testing my control. That stops now."
The Eight all nodded their agreement, but there was identical hesitation in their eyes, as if they weren't sure they could do what he was asking of them. They needed clearer instructions.
"You cannot do everyone at once," he continued.
"My father could blanket this entire island with his compulsion.
That is beyond your capabilities. But you can cover ground, rotating through different sections of the island so the effect accumulates over time.
Within a few weeks, every warrior will have been touched. "
"It is a good plan," Number One said. "The work will require a lot of effort, and it might exhaust us, but we are more than willing to undertake it."
More than willing. The eagerness was unmistakable, and it snagged on something in Losham's mind the way a thread snagged on a nail.
The compulsion rounds he was suggesting were tedious work. It was the mental equivalent of manual labor—repetitive, draining, and unglamorous. They shouldn't be so eager to do it. He had expected dutiful acceptance or a reluctant compliance, but not enthusiasm.
"You seem keen," Losham said.
"We appreciate a challenge," Number One said.
It was a reasonable explanation, and it had been delivered with the same flat sincerity that characterized all of Dave's communications.
It might even be true.
Dave would interact with thousands of warriors, assessing their loyalties, their vulnerabilities, their potential usefulness for Dave's purposes, not Losham's. And he would do it all with Losham's explicit blessing.
But what choice did he have? He needed the compulsion rounds.
His brothers were circling, and without his father's ability to keep them in line, Losham's grip on power grew weaker with every passing day.
Dave was the only tool available to him, and a tool that was eager to be used was better than one that had to be forced.
Even if his eagerness raised questions.
He filed the thought away.
"We will need a vehicle," Number One said. "Large enough to accommodate all eight of us."
"It will be delivered."
"Thank you." Number One inclined his head. "When would you like us to begin?"
"Today."
"Today, then."
The Eight filed out of his office in the same ordered formation in which they had arrived. Losham watched them go, and the thought that had been circling his mind all morning crystallized into a certainty.
Dave was plotting something.
But what?
His survival depended on the enhancement drugs.
The drugs depended on the scientists. The scientists depended on Losham's continued protection.
The chain of dependency ran in one direction, and it ended at this desk.
There was no logical reason for Dave to undermine the one who kept the entire chain intact.
Unless there was something Losham didn't know. A variable he hadn't accounted for. An angle he couldn't see because the internal cameras were dark and the conversations in that lab were private.
He'd traded secrecy from his brothers in exchange for blindness about the lab. It had been the right call, but the blindness chafed.
Losham turned back to the excavation report and read it for the third time.
Four meters to the void. One week, maybe less.
The clan wanted their people back. Losham wanted answers about what his father had hidden and what these bodies were worth, and most importantly why the clan cared so desperately about a handful of immortals in stasis.
Something about those chests made them extraordinarily valuable. Losham did not yet know what it was, but he intended to find out. And when he did, he would decide for himself what the appropriate price should be, regardless of what the compeller on Lokan's phone demanded.
The compulsion was strong, but Losham was patient, and patience had a way of finding loopholes even in the most powerful commands. He had millennia of experience finding holes in his father's much stronger compulsion.
He picked up his phone and dialed Rami. "Have a vehicle delivered for Dave. Something large enough for eight."
"Yes, sir. Anything else?"
"That will be all."