Broken Republic and all affiliated Chapters and characters are copyright Steven Swanson 2000-2001. The characters and events in this document are purely fictional, any resemblance between the characters and any person, living or dead, are purely coincidental. UNATCO, the FBI, the CIA, the NYPD, INTERPOL, the Spetznaz, the Mossad, and the NSA are all real organizations and should not be cited as the creation of any single person. Mason Industries is not affiliated with any existing corporations in the real world. Due to mature content, reader discretion is advised. No part of this document may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission of the author. Steven Swanson is not responsible for any difficult reading caused by the influence of drugs, alcohol, or just plain idiocy. If you are offended by some of the content in this script, that's your problem. Conspiracy theorists are warned not to take this seriously, and that this disclaimer is to simply cover my ass and make aware to plagiarists that ALL the aforementioned agencies feel that that practice could be bad for your health. Uh, well, that's pretty much it. Don\x92t say you haven\x92t been warned, and get reading!

August 16, 2018

"Mr. Verkerke, your 2:15 is here to see you."

"Thanks Sheila. Bring him in."

John was a middle-aged man, once a prominent UN peacekeeper in several overseas units. He had graying hair, but he felt lucky to still have it all at his age. He had his mother to thank for that. Having been placed on the desk, his war had changed from counterterrorism to counterfat, and he was slowly losing. A small gut formed where he once had a firm six-pack, and his age was becoming more apparent every day. He was still fit though, taking time to exercise daily. He still had a few good years left, he thought to himself, and a little fat is only a small concern compared to the Ambrosia theft and smuggling crises. He looked at his suit, making sure he looked clean and neat. Even though Paul was a subordinate, he couldn\x92t go around in a wife beater and boxer shorts. This was a security organization with strict disciplines, and he knew well that appearance commands respect. His door opened, revealing the soldier. He was dressed in his blue formal outfit, which looked quite similar to a cross between military décor and a police officer\x92s uniform. The uniform exaggerated the broad build of the man\x92s shoulders, but he could tell that this boy was kind of sinewy and slender underneath the deceptive uniform. Maybe Fitzpatrick let his snipers be a little less macho than the other operatives. Then again, he had to remember that this boy hadn\x92t received any form of augmentation, save the monitoring devices that all UNATCO employees had. This would soon change.

"Ah, you\x92re Sergeant Calabrese, is that correct?"

"Yes sir" He said, at attention.

"At ease. As a matter of fact, why don\x92t you have a seat? This may take a while, and you\x92ll want to know all the details."

"Permission to speak, sir?"

"Son, you don\x92t even have to ask. We like to think of ourselves as policemen here, not soldiers."

"Thank you, sir."

"That\x92s Mr. Verkerke, Colonel to you."

"Colonel, I just wanted to know what exactly is going on. I thought I was going to the West Bureau to get fitted mechanically. I\x92ve wanted augmentations for quite some time, but now that they\x92ve sent me here for an experimental augmentation, I want to know what\x92s going on before they stick all sorts of crazy gizmos up my ass." Verkerke raised an eyebrow quizzically, as if non-verbally asking him to rephrase the quote. "I mean, I\x92d like to know what\x92s going on, and, since you\x92re my new superior, I thought you may be the right person to ask."

"I\x92m just surprised they didn\x92t tell you. Here\x92s what you need to know. I\x92ve just been assigned to lead the East Coast Bureau. I\x92ve had to set up shop in a new office, get acquainted with a set of new operatives, and take charge of the entire New York contingent, and we\x92ve only just moved into this office. As far as I\x92m concerned, this is a learning experience for me as well. However, about your augmentations, there\x92s something I might be able to help you with. First off, are you aware of the use of genetics in everyday life?"

"Well, sure, I mean, it\x92s in our food, the clothes we wear, in medical technology, everything."

"What about genetic manipulation? Splicing, to be more specific."

"This isn\x92t going where I think it\x92s going, is it?"

John nodded affirmatively. He knew that anyone new to the idea of crossing species would probably have a lot of questions. Perhaps he would even have to move up his timetable.

"Since the dawn of the 21^st century, genetic research has sort have been on the sidelines, thanks to ethical controversies. Even so, our impatient military was a bit too eager to take advantage of mechanical prosthetics that we forgot about the practical uses of genetics altogether. However, times change, and now even our most valuable operatives are vulnerable to technology now commonplace on the black market, namely EMP technology. On top of that, there\x92s a great deal of maintenance required for all these augmentations, and a lot of money has gone into just keeping our agents up and running. About two years ago, a Dr. James Morrissey of the U.S. Military Medical Bureau announced to me a project his team had been working on since the Ethiopian Conflict. As it turns out, genetic research has grown in leaps and bounds, thanks primarily to corporations, and the prospect of splicing two species has gone from a wild theory to a reality. Put short, we now have the medical means to cross desirable characteristics between species. Granted, there are limitations."

"What kinds of limitations?", said Paul, strangely intrigued.

"There aren\x92t any long term side effects, but you may want to see the results for yourself." Verkerke concluded, pivoting in his leather covered office chair and pulling out a TV remote. A TV screen materialized after a wall panel slid down, automatically turning on to display a show on "Extreme Land Luge", one of those crazy ESPN broadcasts. The built in reader accessed a nanodisc CD and displayed a crystal clear image of a doctor. Paul presumed this was Morrissey. He wasn\x92t the mad scientist with electrified hair and circular glasses he had thought. Rather, he was a calm looking man with a Dutch appearance. He had straight, fine brown hair and naturally sleepy eyes. His nose was thin and stuck out just a bit too much at the tip, but the most noticeable part of his face was an unusually large chin. He looked at it, blankly ignoring the man\x92s monologue and wondering how he could carry that huge abutment around.

"It\x92s the chin, isn\x92t it?" Verkerke inquired, smiling. "Yeah, I can\x92t stand it either. You know, if you look at it long enough, it seems to actually get bigger. Pay attention, here\x92s the demo now."

An image materialized, showing a big tank filled with blue fluid, IV tubes, monitors, and hoses as well as a more unusual object: a human. All the hoses converged on a large mask with an unusually large mouth space, and several transparent IV tubes flowed into the man\x92s forearm. A larger apparatus surrounded his groin and private areas, and several large, solid tubes protruded from it. One would think that this man was dead, but Verkerke quickly assured Paul that he was in stasis. Now intrigued, Paul listened to Morrissey\x92s words, which were surprisingly devoid of any dialects or accents.

"As you can see now, our volunteer, Nathan, is in stasis, a sort of human hibernation. His vital functions have been tuned down to their lowest necessary level thanks to our equipment. As we speak he is slowly absorbing the serum, which will alter him to the point that he shares the positive characteristics of both a human and, in this case, a North American Timberwolf. The whole process, muscle rejuvenation and all, will take quite some time, three weeks to be precise, as his body replaces his cells and gets reacquainted with his genetic alterations. Now, Mr. Verkerke, I assure you that our scientists have been working for a very long time on this, perfecting the processes as well as the results. If there were a known problem at this point, I would have told you about it."

He walked up to the tank, which had a computer console with a DNA double helix on a monitor. The image showed occasional bits of DNA information trading places and working on a small level.

"Looking closer, we see that Nathan is suspended in a harmless solution that neither takes nor injects water into his body. If there were mere water in here, he would bloat and eventually explode. If there were salt water, it would dehydrate him. Looking at this screen now, we see a tiny piece of the puzzle. As you can see, the genetic information is trading places, and what is happening in this tiny fragment is actually happening all over the body. This takes time, however, two weeks. I leave today and start time-lapse photography to show you the change."

After a couple of seconds, a fixed camera view with a day count displayed the transition. At first, his fingernails grew and developed into claws, not tiny and ingrown, but not huge, meat cleaving ones either. Then, his feet and legs changed both skeletally and in muscle structures. His calves seemed to get slightly smaller, but his feet tipped downward and grew broader at the tips. Both little toes vanished altogether, and eventually a broad, four clawed foot developed. Unlike the hands, though, the foot claws were large and adapted to flesh rending. Looking back at the hand, several small black pads had formed on the main contact points of the hand: The heel, the fingertips, and the area directly under the first knuckles of the fingers grew a padded, protective layer. Aside from that, though, the hands looked almost exactly human. Having paid attention exclusively at his hands, he had almost forgotten to look at the man\x92s head. His forehead had sunk down slightly, sloping forward, and his eyes seemed closer to the top of his head. He assumed that the eyes themselves had changed as well, but since they were closed, he couldn\x92t tell. His ears had also changed, shifting up toward the back of the head. They had grown to their half conical shapes and were laid toward the rear, partially hidden from view. Because the muzzle was covered, he couldn\x92t deduce how it appeared, but assumed that it was also present in the long air mask. Just as he could see a thin, bare tail protrude from behind, he could see hair growing all over the mans\x92 body, except on the hand pads. The tail became long and covered in silky fur, looking much better than it had previously. Although it was meant to be a timber wolf, the naturally brown hair of the man made his pelt a mixture of browns and whites. From as high as he could see on the man\x92s chest and neck, white fur extended to cover his chest, then slowly tapered into nothingness toward the groin. The rest of his body was covered in fine brown fur, which was short around the back, chest, and legs, but longer at the groin, tail, and lower legs. The tops of his arms had the darkest brown fur, almost giving it a black appearance. Finally, the image halted, showing little physical development until day 14.

"After a week of careful muscle rejuvenation by electric impulse, the volunteer is ready to re-enter the world. We started on February 1^st, and today it\x92s March the third. It takes a bit of time to mentally get used to the body, but you can judge for yourself if it has any affect on consciousness."

The camera turned, showing the half canine volunteer dressed in casual human clothes. As Paul had expected, a muzzle had formed, but the appearance didn\x92t make a freakish blend between a human and a wolf\x92s head, despite the difference in size. His body was now much more muscular, a predictable development as military organizations preferred strong personnel in almost any circumstance. Looking at the man, he realized that despite his head, feet, and claws, he looked almost human, sat upright as a human, and seemed just as receptive to his surroundings as any normal person. It both intrigued and frightened him that genetic manipulation had reached such a remarkably advanced state that doctors could literally play God, creating new species by combining the favorable characteristics of either one. Still, the hybrid looked so human, and so well blended between the two species, that one may have gone as far as to say he was handsome.

"Nathan, I have a few short questions for the boys in Washington and New York. First off, how do you feel?"

"Just great." He replied, having a nearly perfect human voice. The only difference was that it was slightly lower, but it could have easily been his natural voice.

"Have you had any problems since your change?"

"Well, aside from learning how to walk with new feet, not much. At first, everything seemed a bit loud, but I\x92ve learned how to tone out less desirable sounds. Now I know how dogs can live in the bustle of the city."

"What about your sense of smell?"

"Still learning all the new scents. When you\x92re human, you miss a great deal of information because you can\x92t smell much. Some of the chemicals have a negative effect, but so far nothing hasn\x92t come up that I can\x92t withstand."

"And your thoughts\x85 Are there any conflicts? Regressions?"

"No, I\x92m still a human as far as my conscience is concerned."

"Anything else? Feel free to say anything good or bad, we need this information to perfect the technique."

"Well, I appreciate the increased strength. It\x92s a good balance of dexterity and muscle. Really, I feel more physically fit than ever. As for the bad, well, I don\x92t see the practicality of all this fur, but I\x92d probably look terrible without it, so I guess it can stay."

"We sympathize, Nathan, but you have to remember what we\x92re aiming for: versatile, effective operatives that perform just as well as cyborgs in the field. Besides, you never know when our missions will require agents to operate in subfreezing temperatures, and no electronics means no problems with countertechnological devices."

"EMP?" Paul interrupted.

"Yes. It\x92s a problem that can\x92t be ignored." Replied Verkerke, freezing the recording. "Ten years ago, an unknown security force, we think the South Africans, came up with a way to create electromagnetic pulse without an extraterrestrial explosion. Now that the technology has shrunk, commonplace terrorists can buy a couple of EMP grenades right off the black market, or even make their own. The effects have been devastating to our operatives, and consequently, innocent people around the globe. This is why cross-genetics is so vital and has so much potential." He continued the documentary.

"You may be wondering why we couldn\x92t just keep a human shape with more subtle augmentations, such as a cyborg. Here\x92s why." He pulled out an anatomical diagram of a wolf/man hybrid. Paul was surprised at first, but then remembered that the project had been underway for quite some time, long enough to make some pretty diagrams with labels. "Canines have some of the most sensitive noses in the animal kingdom. This is because their nasal cavity is much larger and more suited to picking up even the faintest scents. The wolf was also picked over, say, the ape because apes are too close to humans to have enough of the desired characteristics. Their agility is great and their strength is good, but little else separates them from humans. Also, the supersensitive hearing of all canines is a definite plus, their muscle strands are 30% more effective than most normal human muscle tissue, and vision is enhanced by slightly larger eyes that can adjust to very low light, but also take extreme light quite well. The digitigrade feet, or, feet that bear the body\x92s weight on the toes, help with dexterity, though climbing ladders may be more difficult without an arch to support the weight. Clawed feet help with the traction. Lung capacity, for those concerned, is unchanged. The tail is a byproduct of the change, not much of a problem, as a matter of fact quite natural looking. If absolutely necessary, it can be removed manually, but it would be absurd and largely pointless to do so. I\x92d like to believe that most genetically augmented operatives, we\x92ll just call them hybrids, would prefer to keep their tails."

"He\x92s bluffing about something. There has to be some form of side effect. People have died after taking improperly tested headache medicine, for god\x92s sake. What happens if there are unknown problems?" Paul interrupted, suspicious.

"He isn\x92t bluffing. Don\x92t worry. He sent a copy of the revised genome maps for all species. Aside from the cosmetic and physical differences, there\x92s no problem. Everything\x92s legit, checked out by government scientists, and a year of testing since then has proved negative on any sort of conflicts." He talked confidently, as if he were well versed in the matter\x85 or perhaps not versed enough. "Would you like me to stop the tape now?"

"Sure." The screen blanked out noiselessly. Its concealment door stayed open. "He didn\x92t mention a reversible process. Is there one?"

"Yes, but it takes much longer than the first change. They have to splice your own DNA with itself again and again and again. It could take two months in stasis to get the wanted results, but it is possible. You still wouldn\x92t be quite the same again." He looked down, almost in disappointment. "You don\x92t want to follow through with this, do you?"

"It\x92s not the process or the results that bothers me. It\x92s the long-term effects. Will this augmentation turn me into an animal over time?"

"Son, as far as I\x92m concerned, we\x92re all animals already. Our instinct has told us to kill or be killed, and the entire natural world along with human history is solid proof. You were trained to kill, to resist insurrections and repel security threats. There isn\x92t a thing this augmentation could do to you that makes you any more of a killer except to heighten your efficiency."

Paul shifted in his chair, slightly irritated. "Sir, you didn\x92t answer my question. Is there or is there not regression?"

Verkerke paused, sensing the boy\x92s tone. He remembered how careful these conversations had to be. Keeping his authority and backing it up with logic, he spoke with more precision. "No. Twenty years of painstaking research have made sure that it\x92s nonexistent."

"What about my friends? What about the people on the street? Just 50 years ago, if anyone saw a hybrid like this, they would scream and run. What would prevent that now?"

"World pandemic, raging terrorism, collapsed economy, acceptance of technology in their everyday lives\x85 People have more to worry about than wolf men. You never know, fur might be \x91in\x92 again."

"What about you? Will you be doing this?"

"I\x92m a desk jockey now. I can\x92t. Believe me, I would, though, if I were in your shoes. Besides, your brother has."

"My brother?"

"Yeah. He told me to thank you for finishing the job. It seems he tried an assassination attempt at the same man. His crew didn\x92t succeed, thanks to EMP grenades. So far, he\x92s decided to exploit his normal body as much as he can, refusing robotic implants, but with this more natural, down to earth way, he\x92s eagerly jumped right in."

"Has he gone through with it yet?"

"Yes, but he\x92s on assignment. Aside from him, there are 24 operatives getting augmented in different ways. That includes you if you decide to enter the program. So far they\x92ve only been able to cross two species at a time, and the animal at hand must be a mammal. Most of the hybrids you\x92ll be meeting will be catlike, bearlike, wolflike\x85 hell, there\x92s going to be a zoo in here. All we need is for you to decide. Thanks to some of the boys in Washington, you\x92re the last on our roster. Any more would indicate a serious \x91funding and ethics problem\x92." He scoffed without humor. "As if they don\x92t have enough public relations nightmares already. So, are you in, or are you out?"

"I\x85 I don\x92t know. I need some time to think this over."

He leaned forward in his chair, getting closer and more personal, but still retaining his authority like a professional communicator. "That\x92s just fine. I understand, and as your CO, I\x92m giving you one week\x92s leave to decide. Besides, after the Hong Kong job you\x92ve certainly earned it. Oh, you\x92re dismissed now, Lieutenant." The tone of his voice funneled off, releasing the pressure slowly, but carefully retaining his point. Yes, when it boiled down to it, Paul really didn\x92t have a choice in the manner, but it would keep suspicions down if he actually wanted to change. The fact that his brother had volunteered only enforced his confidence in Paul\x92s desires. It could also have been that the boy was smart enough to know that his military career would be screwed if he didn\x92t take this opportunity. Either way, it was better to have him want the therapy rather than force it upon him later. It wouldn\x92t be the first time that a person was forced to be augmented in his ranks. As Paul left the room, Verkerke leaned back in his chair with a breathy sigh. That\x92s 25, he thought with a smile.