The Omega Sequence Novella Read online

NELSON KING

  "? fast-paced, painstakingly researched thriller."

  -Shelley Hudson, copy editor

  Referring to the full-length novel THE OMEGA SEQUENCE

  THE OMEGA

  SEQUENCE

  NOVELLA

  Nelson King still considers himself a New Zealander, even though he has lived abroad for almost twenty years. He trained as a civil and structural engineer but is now a full-time novelist. He splits his time between New Zealand, Europe, and Canada-a country and people he has grown to love dearly. He writes fiction thrillers with a hint of suspense/action/adventure, traveling the world to painstakingly research his many subjects and characters.

  His interests include flying planes and exploring far-flung regions. He is currently writing his fourth book, a suspense/thriller novel that begins in America and winds up in Italy via Norway.

  For more information on Nelson King, please visit:

  www.nelsonkingnovels.com

  NELSON KING

  THE OMEGA

  SEQUENCE

  NOVELLA

  NewCanadianPublishing Limited

  COPYRIGHT

  First published 2015 by

  NewCanadianPublishing Limited

  1489 Marine Drive, West Vancouver

  British Columbia

  Canada

  V7T1B8

  www.nelsonkingnovels.com

  ISBN 978-0-9938561-1-2

  Copyright ? Nelson King 2015

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be duplicated, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher, other than the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  This book constitutes part of the Legal Deposit as required by Canadian law. Library and Archives Canada's collection of books preserves Canada's published heritage for present and future generations.

  Library and Archives Canada

  395 Wellington Street, Ottawa

  Ontario, K1AON4

  THE OMEGA

  SEQUENCE NOVELLA

  The future depends on what you do today.

  -Mahatma Gandhi

  I happen to believe that this kind of genetic modification takes mankind into realms that belong to God, and to God alone.

  -His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales

  We are increasingly encouraged that the advantages of genetic engineering of plants and animals are greater than the risks. The risks should be carefully followed through openness, analysis, and controls, but without a sense of alarm.

  -Bishop Elio Sgreccia, Pontifical Academy for Life, Vatican City

  CHAPTER 1

  Dr. Douglas MacDougall, Eminent Scientist

  Speaking at the Podium

  Monday May 10, 2004

  12:36 p.m.

  Douglas MacDougall, known for his wry sense of humor, was unusually serious this morning as he addressed the packed audience in the old lecture hall at the University of Barcelona. Seriousness did not suit him however, for he was a short, odd fellow who uncannily resembled a garden gnome, though with far redder cheeks.

  "My discovery at the Krowlett Research Institute back in Scotland five years ago was a farce. The high counts of lectins were making the rats sick-that we knew for certain. Now, being of good Scottish descent and an honest sort of fellow, at least according to the few friends I have left, I felt it my God-given responsibility to share my misgivings with the public. Admittedly, I didn't expect quite such a disgrace, nor did I consider the possibility that my scientific research might come to a crushing standstill. And indeed my career in general."

  He sipped from the glass of water resting on the edge of the lectern, emitting a low sigh of dissatisfaction at the end.

  "National television in the UK can be, um?cynical, to say the least. Perhaps my judgment, or lack thereof, to share all my thoughts was a tad wee innocent. Spontaneous, even.

  "But enough of my failings for one day. Let us move on to more engrossing topics. And that is why I am here, at your esteemed university, to regale you with a short lecture on the inadequacies of the safety measures used to test these new crop lines. Hardly democratic, is it, you ask. And I would agree. For reasons of clarity and understanding, I'll try to stick with English so you can understand, not the eld lingo of Glesca." He waited for the good humor and murmurings to die down. When the audience had settled, he continued.

  "The problem is these large drug companies have been given the go-ahead to test their new seed lines with very little oversight. Aye, you heard right-it's like crack addicts self-medicating. Too much money at stake, if you ask me. Not enough oversight-not by the government, anyway. Bloody eejits," he muttered.

  "I would also like to say where there's negative sentiment by the public, or disagreement based on hard scientific facts, the gen-engineering companies like to crush all perfectly logical reasoning and calls for more stringent testing as soon as possible so that any impugnment doesn't spread. Because my views are one hundred and eighty degrees polar opposite, I am a target." He hesitated.

  A knot in his stomach had just made its uncomfortable presence known. There was only one cure for this sensation, a cure-all, though he was well aware it was too early to get bladdered. He began speaking again to distract them, unbuttoning his tweed jacket and slipping the quivering fingers of one hand under the breast. The cold metal of the silver hip flask touching his fingers seemed to give him strength, as if the brown liquid-Scotland's finest-was already coursing through his veins. He was dying for a wee dram.

  With one brisk gesture, the hip flask was released from his pocket and held low beneath the lectern, next to the glass of water so no one could see. With a quick, practiced movement, he sloshed a good amount of whiskey into the glass, and almost as fast, the stopper was replaced and the hip flask returned to his pocket, the audience none the wiser. The first sip of the day was cause for celebration, and he let out a long, throaty warble.

  Unbeknownst to the audience, upon that silver hip flask, stamped into the metal in Latin, was his family's motto "to conquer or die." He would do neither. All he had to do was stay alive and continue to stoke the groundswell of displeasure. It was the only way to defeat these global corporations.