The Lives of Tao (41 page)

“I see. Well, we have our work cut out for us then.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

DAY ONE

Zoras’s host, Armand, decided to slay the Prophus guards escorting the Chest of the Menagerie as a lesson and a warning. For he not only made sure that the hosts died, he made sure that the Prophus inside died as well. The hosts were all buried alive in the very chests that housed the Menagerie. Their cries underground could be heard for hours. This was in many ways, our original sin. For the first time in our history on Earth, the Quasing began to murder each other.
 

Armand released one prisoner as a warning to the rest of us. From that point on, there was no turning back. The war became one of vengeance rather than control. And to this day, both sides wage this misguided war.
 

The conference was surprisingly like any other convention Roen had ever been to – except no one was giving out t-shirts, and no vendors were trying to sell him anything. What would a slogan for the Monaco Decennial say, anyway? “Mediating ways to fight since the 1800s”?

The primary purpose of the Decennial was to discuss the return to Quasar and address how the Prophus Command and the Genjix Council could keep their war under wraps. The topic on everyone’s mind seemed to be this Penetra scanner and the consequences it could have on their species. Everywhere Roen went, Quasings on both side argued the risks it could pose to their species. Neither side was willing to share what they knew, though it was a hotly debated topic.

The Prophus feared that such a device could fall into humanity’s hands, and with it, knowledge of the Quasing. The Genjix were dismissive of that possibility, hardly acknowledging humans as a concern. The only thing that they cared about was wielding the scanner as a weapon against the Prophus.

There were also a dozen other less important panels going on at the same time. The topic of the panel Roen attended was conflict resolution. The Quasing definition of conflict resolution involved explosives, lots of them. It seemed that within the past decade or so, the loser of any of their major battles felt it was necessary to either plant excessive amounts of explosives or carpet-bomb whatever plot of land they were fighting over. The results led to more expensive repairs and increasingly frustrated public relations groups working overtime to calm the humans. The Genjix’s proposal prevented the losing faction from continuing such practices.

“This is stupid, Tao. It’s strategically sound to not give your enemy resources they can use. Why wouldn’t we blow it up before we leave?”

I agree. They obviously do not think much of Sun Tzu or General Sherman, who interestingly enough, were both Genjix. However, I believe this resolution has a good chance of passing.
 

“Why would any of us be all right with it? If we lose more encounters than we win, it’s to our advantage to blow crap up.”

There are other factors involved. The cost of covering up all these situations is astronomical. We do not have nearly as much money as they do. Financially, it makes sense for us to accept the deal anyway. Cleanup teams are not cheap.
 

Roen shook his head. “Always comes down to money, huh?”

Makes the damn world go round.
 

The resolution passed just as they broke for lunch. The vote for the resolution went over, even though the support to pass it was overwhelming. Roen looked away in disgust as the Prophus and Genjix who drew up the resolution together congratulated each other. Roen wolfed down his lunch as he tried to figure out which panel he wanted to go to next. His choices were “Political Balances of the Middle East” or “Quasing Metaphysical Mutations.” Not knowing exactly what a metaphysical mutation was, Roen chose to go to the Middle East one.

Roen’s last panel couldn’t come fast enough. It was nearing dinner time and his stomach growled so much he barely paid attention to the discussion. It was something about removing flamethrowers from the list of approved armaments. The only other items on the banned list were nuclear bombs and biological weapons. The former was banned after Chernobyl, while the biological weapon ban was enacted after the Prophus lost control of an artificial strain of polio, one that ravaged the United States in the mid-twentieth century. The Prophus did, however, make a large profit selling the cure.

Supposedly, the intense heat from the flamethrowers toxified the air and killed Quasing trying to escape dead hosts. It was probably true, but again, wasn’t that the point? Roen thought that there was little chance this resolution would pass. It became a short panel when it was revealed that the Prophus owned stock in two of the major companies that manufactured flamethrowers. Afterward, Roen decided he’d had enough and headed toward his room.

Sonya met up with him as he walked down to the lobby. She put a hand on his elbow and escorted him to the elevator, giving him not-so-gentle nudges to hurry him along. “Listen, Roen. Tonight, go to your room and stay there. Do not come out no matter what. Remember, all the hotel staff belongs to one of the factions, so if anyone from the staff doesn’t give you the code phrase, do not open the door. Barricade your windows with furniture. Take this and keep it with you at all times.” She pressed a telescopic baton into his hand.

She added, “The Prophus wing should be safe, but I’m not taking any chances. This is your first night at one of these conferences and you might as well have a bullseye strapped to your back.” She pushed him into the elevator and gave him a small smile just as the door closed.

“Does something weird happen at these things at night? She sounded like everyone turns into werewolves or something once the sun sets.”

They are all wolves already. They just shed their sheep’s clothing once the sun sets. Sonya is right. Newer agents are frequent targets at the Decennial. Do as she says and make sure your windows are barricaded. You never know when an assassin might try to enter through that point. The Genjix side is outside our window, so make sure the curtains are closed and there’s furniture in front of it.
 

“Every time I think you guys can’t get any more ridiculous, you prove me wrong.”

Imagine what it was like before they forced us to disarm at these things.
 

That night, the hotel sounded like a haunted house. One minute it was dead quiet, and then the sound of heavy footsteps rumbled down the hallway like a stampede. In the distance, occasional screams and the sound of glass shattering punctured the night. At least twice, the building shook. At one point, his doorknob rattled like someone was trying to get in. On another occasion, Roen swore he saw the faint red dot of a sniper rifle pass through the gaps left open by the dresser he had moved in front of the window. All in all, it was a very restless night.

The next morning, he half-expected to step into the hallway and find dead bodies strewn about or blood sprayed all over the walls, but when he cautiously poked his head out of his room, everything appeared normal. In fact, Roen began to think he imagined everything from the previous night until he met up with several others for breakfast and heard the grim news. The Genjix had struck first. By everyone’s count, two Prophus and one Genjix were confirmed as sent to the Eternal Sea last night. Ten delegates were abducted on their way back from a late panel.

“That’s twelve Prophus. This is a disaster! How did it happen?”

The rules of the conference are very explicit. There is to be no violence during the tenure of the four days. Anyone proven to cause violence forfeits themselves to the Eternal Sea. The key word is “proven.” It seems Jaj was hit through a window while Chau wandered too close to the Genjix wing. The ten delegates must have been a set-up.
 

“How did you deal with this in the past conferences?”

Are you kidding? I was one of the ones lying in wait.
 

“You’re an evil, evil alien. Doesn’t Command disapprove of this? What if you got caught?”

They only disapprove if you get caught.
 

Roen had a hard time staying focused during the second day. Anyone could be an enemy. Roen had never wished for a gun more than he did at that very moment. The panels flew by in an inconsequential blur.

Some resolution was ratified that disallowed revenge on a host’s family after the host was gone. It was a pretty common sense and toothless decree. No one worth their secret agent membership card would ever bother going after a host’s loved ones. And if they did, only an incompetent would be sloppy enough to have it traced back to them.

Another hotly contested resolution was the prohibition of assassinating public government figures. Elevating a Quasing to an influential position was a costly and time-consuming endeavor. An alarming number of these prime targets had been assassinated the past few centuries.

The Genjix had brought up the resolution, and support for it was building, until someone brought up the Spanish Inquisition. It seemed as if the Spanish Inquisition was a touchy subject for all the Quasing. A few heated words were exchanged and the entire assembly hall degenerated into a full-blown riot.

Roen was about to jump into the fracas – when Dylan pushed him out of the room and into the arms of two security guards. To Roen’s dismay, after the guards grabbed him, Dylan left to join in the fighting. The last thing Roen saw was Dylan punching a Genjix representative in the face before he was enveloped by several others.

Marc came up next to him and nudged him with an elbow. “I know you can break free from these two hairless apes. Why don’t you do just that and I’ll join you in there?”

For a split second, Roen thought it was a great idea and mulled it over. He devised a plan to take both guards out, pull out his baton, and crush Marc’s skull. It would take just over two seconds.

No, Roen Tan. Just no.
 

Roen sighed. “Fine. I could take him, you know.”

When did you get so bloodthirsty and stupid? If you are going to be bloodthirsty, at least be smart about it.
 

The evening found many of the Prophus at the whiskey bar, while the Genjix nursed their wounds at the wine bar. Roen sipped a scotch while he listened to Dylan describe the fight as if he were a Roman gladiator fighting a pride of lions.

“You know I witnessed the whole thing through the door.” Roen chuckled.

“Then you saw the half-dozen Genjix I took out?” Dylan said, pressing his cold drink on an angry bruise just below his temple.

“I did see you disappear under a pile of bodies when three of them jumped on you.”

“That’s how those dirty Genjix fight. It’s never fair, those cowards!”

Sonya and Paula came by a while later, looking like two disapproving mothers. Sonya was furious as she scolded Roen for acting so foolishly and getting involved in a brawl at the Decennial.

“Why are you yelling at me?” he asked. “Dylan’s the one that did all the fighting. I just stood there. Go yell at him.”

She shook her head. “I know better than to yell at that incorrigible jackass. You, I expect more of. I heard the guards had to hold you back. What happened to your innate self-preservation instinct? That was the one quality you had going for you.”

Roen shrugged. “Tao happened, I guess.”

Damn right. But please remind her that I actually prevented you from assaulting Marc.
 

“Tao was egging me on the entire time. It’s a miracle I didn’t kill someone.”

And you wonder why Baji thinks I am a bad influence.
 

Sonya scowled. “You tell Tao that for a wise old alien, he’s an imbecile.” Her expression softened. “Look, you all should get to your rooms. It’s almost 9pm and security is stretched thin enough as it is. Tonight’s going to be worse than yesterday.”

The warning in her voice was clear. Roen excused himself and made his way toward his room. Like the previous night, he barricaded the window and made sure the doors were locked. He tossed and turned for about thirty minutes before finally dozing off.

He woke to the hotel phone ringing. Roen sat up with a start and looked at the clock: 12.30. Who could be calling him at this time? He waited for the phone to stop ringing before he turned over and tried to fall asleep again. A moment later, it rang again.

Roen sat up and picked up the phone. “Hello?” he said tiredly.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Mr Tan,” the voice said on the other line. “This is Leon down in the hotel lobby. There is a Ms Tesser here to see you.”

Roen, no...
 

Roen’s mouth fell open soundlessly as he dropped the phone and ran for the door.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

UNINVITED

After the events involving the Chest of the Menagerie, I do not have much to tell that could show you any insight as to who I am. Because from that point on, it has been nothing but mindless war. I had given up all hope of an enlightened culture or of peaceful civilizations that innovated through stability. We used to be two sides playing chess with humanity’s evolution as the prize. Now, we play simply to defeat the other side. In a way, the Prophus fell right into the Genjix’s hands.