Science has already discovered that the HMHVV virus, and its numerous variants, have wildly differing effects on different metatypes. The vampires of Ordo Maximus intend to isolate these and use them to create monsters of their own devising. Humans, elves, and orks retain normal intelligence after infection with HMHVV: dwarfs and trolls do not. If the Ordo can determine the reason some metatypes retain their mental faculties and others don’t, they can convey intelligence on infected dwarfs and trolls… or take it away front infected humans, elves, and orks, creating mindless feeding machines or powerful creatures with malign intelligence at their whim.

– 

Martin de Vries, Shadows at Noon, posted to Shadowland BBS. 24 May 2057

Pakow sat at the main console of the operating theater, cushioned by his overstuffed chair. Below him, framed by the octagonal-shaped, slanted plexiglass walls, stood the huge stainless steel containment chamber. Two of his assistants. both barely more than automatons, moved about their programmed assignments, filling the vats with the glowing blue fluid Doctor Wake had developed.

Pakow wiped away a trickle of sweat that dripped from his hairline and ran down his forehead. Things were getting messy, and it was scaring him.

He leaned down and spoke into a microphone that sprouted from the top of the console, “Number Two, set temperature at thirty-one point three, then exit.”

Pakow watched as the misshapen creature stepped onto the engraved white and green pentagram that gridded the floor, shambled to the huge container, and did as it was told. Once the setting had been entered the thing that had once been a man made his way to the lift platform that would lower him out of the chamber, Pakow knew it would take him down into the decontamination section, where he hoped the small glitch in the decon program would go unnoticed. If it didn’t, the computer would realize that Number Two didn’t have any contaminants on him at all. And if that happened, the game would be up.

Another trickle of sweat followed the first, and Pakow wiped at it in frustration, He was exhausted and frightened. He didn’t like all this intrigue wasn’t used to the stress it caused, and was seriously worried that he was going to crack before the night was over.

“Number One, transfer the patient to the tank.”

The other occupant of the room, an ork who had been one of the first metas to undergo the procedure, shook slightly then started in the wrong direction before stopping, turning, and heading over to a large hatch in the side of the theater. This ork had been part of a test group for an omega strain Pakow had designed, one intended to transform members of the various metatypes into vampires, without also conferring the disadvantages HMHVV usually bestowed on their metatype.

Pakow shook his head. He hated using Number One. In fact, he hated everything about Number One. He shuddered as he thought back on the night he and Wake had finished the procedure on the poor creature.

Instead of the fully intelligent and magically capable being they’d hoped to engineer, the ork had come off the table a drooling, homicidal thing devoid of any ability whatsoever They’d implanted the psychotropic chip, but the ork’s meta gene reacted with the virus in such a way that the chip seemed to have no effect.

Only after they’d given it a frontal lobotomy did Number One settle down to where it was manageable. They had spent almost three hours inside the thing’s skull, selectively searing neurons until they’d found the right combination.

However, whatever talents the ork might have had were also deleted, making it fit for nothing more than high-risk, decon-proof tasks that didn’t require any brain power. Still, tonight, that was exactly what Pakow needed. Even if things didn’t go quite as planned, there was no way Wake could learn anything from this creature, not even using his formidable magical skill. The only magical manifestation Number One showed was a profound resistance to anything magical. Something that Wake thought of as a success of sorts.

As Number One opened the sliding hatch and clumsily lifted the body waiting there. Pakow turned to the large monitor at the front of the console. Everything was ready. The room showed no sign of contamination, and the vat itself was now filled with a simple saline solution instead of the DMSO-saturated liquid required for the process. The DMSO facilitated the subject tissue’s absorption of the chemicals necessary to start the conversion process.

Number One placed the limp form into the vat, and stepped back.

“Initiate sedation.”

Number One shook again, but this time got the order right on the first try. A small needle attached to an articulated mechanical arm stretched out from the side of the vat and slid into the side of the patient’s neck. Pakow smiled. Anybody watching the trid replay would see that everything was going according to standard operating procedure. However, instead of sedating the patient, he was being injected with a chemical that would actually counteract most of the drugs he’d been given in the last twelve hours.

Pakow sat back and took a deep breath. “Number One, exit.”

It took Number One two tries to get to the lift, hut when he was safely gone, Pakow felt tension bleed our of his shoulders. His part in this was over for the moment. Now it was up to de Vries and whoever he had with him to do their part. Hopefully de Vries had found the package he’d left for him. Pakow had done everything within his power to prevent any slip-ups, but all this cloak and dagger was definitely out of his league. It was too late for regrets, but he couldn’t help fervently wishing he’d never heard of Oslo Wake or the Terminus Experiment.

Pakow reached into his pocket and pulled out a small holopic of Shiva and their little girl, Kirstan. The reasons he was here in the first place. And the reasons he’d decided to turn on Wake.

He shook his head and a grim smile touched the edges of his mouth.

“I hope,” he whispered to the still image, “that I haven’t jeopardized your lives” He looked at Shiva’s dark-skinned face smiling up at him, feeling tears begin to well at the corners of his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I know I’ve let you down.”

Shiva, a woman of vast heart and incredible strength of character would never have condoned what he’d been involved in here. Would never have understood the choices he’d been offered. He knew without even thinking about it that Shiva would rather have died than to see her husband a part of this abomination.

Pakow shook his head quickly as if he could shake off the guilt he felt. Guilt at lying to her about where he was, guilt at doing something she would find reprehensible, guilt at not being with her. Guilt at not being man enough to protect her.

He checked the clock on the console. De Vries had a fifteen-minute window and Pakow hoped that whoever de Vries had decking the system was good enough to get past the intricate Matrix defenses Wake had paid so much to put in place.

He leaned forward and tapped in an extension on the keyad next to the microphone base. After a second. Wake’s voice filtered out of the speaker. “What is it, Dr. Pakow?”

“The subject is in the vat, and I’ve begun the process,” Pakow said. “I’m going to head down to the cafeteria and pick up some coffee. We won’t need you for another four hours. Also, I finished up the tests on Marco D’imato’s gene coding. He’s an anomaly, as far as I can tell, but you’re right about the deterioration progressing much faster than we expected. He’s on the verge of coming apart.”

There was a long pause, and Pakow found himself sweating again.

“All right, thank you,” came Wake’s voice. “I’m nearly finished with my preparations, except for a few final details. Keep me informed of the subject’s progress, and also keep me updated on the security matter we discussed earlier. I’ve noticed some excess magical activity in the area. Somebody gave us a quick scan about an hour ago. I think it was a follow-up on the astral scan we got this morning. Keep your head up.”