Sefura
Halfway down the dimly lit hall to George's quarters, Sefura turned and stared into the deep shadows behind her. Her heart thudded against her rib cage. Someone's down there, she thought. Pressing her body tight against the wall, not daring to blink, she watched until her eyes watered from the strain. No sound. No stirring.
You and George are the only two people in this wing, and George is behind locked doors, she reminded herself. Shaking off the fear, she continued walking toward his room.
As she raised her hand to press the intercom button, strange scrabbling noises vibrated from behind the door. Frowning, she put her ear close to the polished wood. The unfamiliar rustling came again, concentrated on the spot where her ear pressed.
"George?" she said, her voice low and timorous.
I'm letting my imagination run away with me, she thought. He couldn't possibly be in the anteroom. His chair is too wide.
Nevertheless, she said, "George, it's Sefura. Do you need your serum?" A pale bead of light flicked just above her head. He had switched on the intercom. She stepped back a little, staring at the light.
"Open your door, George. I'm coming in. I'll fix the serum for you."
"N . . . N . . . o." The sound came high, reedy. "Ch . . . chan . . . ging." His breathing labored from the speaker.
"George, let me help. Please let me help." She stood on tiptoes, pressed her mouth close to the speaker. "Please."
"G . . . go!"
Sefura stumbled backwards at the finality, the vehemence. The light switched off and she backed silently down the hall. Reaching the intersecting corridor, she raced from his wing of the palace toward the warm light of sanity. The library door opened as she reached it and a stream of light poured across the immense ballroom floor.
"There you are," Munoz said. "Come. Join us for coffee." His tall frame moved aside as Bianca stepped up beside him.
"Is George all right?"
"He didn't want his serum." Sefura looked back over her shoulder. "Something's not right. He—"
"All that means is that he managed to give himself his own injection," Bianca interrupted. "He'll sleep now." She held out her hand.
Sefura glanced once more toward the shadowy hall. Drawing a deep breath, she followed Bianca into the rich warmth of rosewood paneling, white carpet, and soft leather. A thousand books lined the walls. Their pages, bound within the same soft leather, exuded peace, comfort, and safety. Of all the rooms in the palace, this was her favorite. The remnants of her fear dissipated as she sipped the strong espresso.
"Raphael and I were discussing the merits of the BH Gene," Bianca said. Chuckling, she turned her attention to Munoz. "I made the mistake of giving Sef my Dakotan dossier to read. She practically devoured the thing."
"It was the most interesting piece of history I'd read in forever," Sefura broke in. "When you think about the logistical reasoning power it produced, then think about all the fields of science that require such abilities. It's invaluable."
"Not only priceless in research, Sefura. The Dakotan ability to project where and when a volcano is going to erupt, or an earthquake is going to occur, has saved the world's nations countless dollars—to say nothing of countless lives," Munoz interjected. Leaning forward in his chair, he turned toward his consort. "Bianca, I say the BH Gene is worth trying to duplicate. Somewhat modified, perhaps, depending on Our ultimate needs, but it seems to me those abilities could be used—under the right guidance—to keep unruly nations in line. A first line of defense, if you will." He leaned back, tented his fingers under his chin. "Besides, if We can find out what makes it tick, We will have the answers to Our current pressing problem," he said cryptically.
"I don't know. We might end up with more trouble than we have now. You didn't see that young man writhing on the floor with that growth at the back of his skull—blood red and pulsing as if something were clawing its way into his brain. I did."
"I didn't read anything in your notes about a growth, Bianca," Sefura said.
"It was something I saw at Victoria Jensen's wedding, Sef. As far as I know, it's the first time anyone outside the Dakota family has seen it."
"Maybe it was just dividing itself," Sefura said.
"Dividing itself?" Bianca stared blankly.
"You know. Like your bugs do. I know brains don't usually divide themselves, but maybe whatever their great grandfather did changed that." Sefura sipped at her coffee. "Or maybe it's an extra brain that takes a long time to grow up."
Bianca sat quietly for a moment. "It could be, Raphael," she said, eyes crinkling with excitement. "The BH Gene is a product of manipulated DNA. If the right instructions were sent—" Her voice trailed off to thoughtful silence.
"Literally divides? That's a little far-fetched, Bianca."
She shook her head impatiently. "Not that. An extra brain. More precisely, an extra brain region. Shortly after conception, three major brain regions with millions of superfluous neurons form from the neural tube. Normally, those extra cells, along with their trillions of synapses, are discarded by the brain in a pruning process that continues until about the age of twelve years or so. But suppose those cells were redirected right from the beginning. " She chewed at her bottom lip, lost in thought.
Munoz and Sefura watched Bianca's face as she muttered to herself. Sefura opened her mouth to speak and Munoz placed a finger against his lips. She closed her mouth.
"Nerve cells. Computer brains. Receptors." Bianca's eyes widened, her muttering ceased. Looking from Munoz to Sefura, she said, "That's exactly what he did. Victor Dakota created a fourth major brain region."
"Wait a minute, Bee," Sefura said. "In order to understand how our brain processes information, I had to take a semester of brain anatomy and, from what I remember, we need all the skull space we can get. Wouldn't an added mass squash the tissue around it—more apt to act like a tumor than anything useful?"
"Not if it's part of the conceived brain, Sef. A minute skull enlargement, and the other three regions would adjust space needs accordingly. Perhaps the new area takes over functions previously assigned to other areas. Maybe the pleats and folds become more compact. The cerebral cortex may lose one or two of its six layers or other parts of the brain could become more specialized than they already are and cell groups are reduced. I would have to do a dissection to answer those questions. But I have no doubts that Victor Dakota created a fourth region. Not only that, I believe he programmed a unique protection code for its neurotransmitters."
"In plain language, Bianca, that means what?" Munoz asked.
"Unlike the brains of other creatures, our brain, as well as our skull, does most of its growing after we are born and keeps on growing until about the age of eighteen. However, the cell pruning process stops just about the time puberty begins.
"While Ellery's sons and a couple of others were trying to help her nephew, she kept asking if the bud had opened. It's all beginning to make sense." Her olive skin glowed with excitement. "My God. The beauty of it, Raphael. A fourth region—its core protected from the onslaught of pruning basic to normal growth! Virginal neurons coming of age without risk of being eliminated."
"Brain cells that require the outpouring of male hormones to trigger them into action," Munoz said. "That explains the age the trauma phenomenon occurs, confirmed by those Dakotan families you talked to. But what's it for?"
"I suspect it's the power source of that Dakotan ability to project future cause and effect so accurately," Bianca said. "Lord knows what else it does."
"Probably where they store all that information they remember." Sefura set her cup on the end table beside her chair. "If I could do half of what Doctor Jensen's uncle could do, everybody would have to be a whole lot more careful about what they said around me, at least according to what I read in one of those old clippings you have."
"What are you talking about, Sefura?"
"President Garland's Inaugural Ball. He and a member of the North American Federation Coalition quarreled over certain campaign promises, the usual stuff about who said what and when. Jeremiah Dakota got involved, as well as several others, and the President suddenly decided that Jeremiah couldn't attend the ball—the boy was only seventeen and mixed drinks were being served."
"I remember now." Bianca picked up the story. "Victor Dakota was furious. He accused Garland of banning Jeremiah from the festivities because the young man had argued on the side of the Coalition. The ensuing altercation nearly ruined the Ball, until the press got involved. What does that have to do with anything?"
"Since I don't have the BH Gene," Sefura said, "I can't quote it verbatim, but apparently there was a newsman around who had tapes to prove that what Jeremiah quoted was absolutely word-for-word perfect—right down to the ummms and ahhhs." Sefura stretched her arms high, brought them down, and stifled a yawn with her hand. "I'd say Doctor Victor was a brilliant man to have created such a flawless memory. Wouldn't you?"
Bianca sat dumfounded. Munoz gaped.
Sefura opened the library door. "I'm calling it an evening, Bee. Goodnight—"
A loud, sustained outcry, doleful and malevolent, resounded through the marble rooms.
Sefura froze.
Bianca leaped for the door and yanked her sister back into the library. "You stay here. Don't open that door unless you know it's me. Do you understand?"
The howl smashed through the rooms again. This time, it sang Bianca's name.
"I'll need your help, Raphael. George is into second stage metamorphosis. We'll have to take him to the island. Tonight. When this is over, he'll be too dangerous to leave unattended." She whirled to Sefura. "No one is to come in," she repeated. "And you are not to leave this room, no matter what you hear."
Sefura nodded and Bianca raced from the room with Munoz right beside her.