Free Monster Hunter Nemesis by Larry Correia Page B

letting our subcontracted employees do the bleeding on our behalf.” He spotted exactly who he was hoping to find in the command center and walked directly toward her. “Hello, Dr. Bhaskara.”
    She turned and nodded politely to the albino. “Mr. Stricken.”
    Stricken liked the Project’s head scientist. She was an attractive Indian woman in her mid forties, with a British accent that reminded him of Mary Poppins, but she was every bit as driven as he was, and as far as he could tell, she’d never been weighed down with any of those pesky medical ethics some of these brilliant science types seemed to get hung up on. “Any new developments with our babies?”
    Dr. Bhaskara sniffed. She didn’t like when he referred to the Project Nemesis prototypes as babies . “Of the thirteen we have decanted so far, the prototypes are still testing at peak efficiency. Their ability to learn is remarkable. There has yet to be a single testing failure, cognitive or physical, thus far.”
    “What’re the new scores looking like?”
    “Far better than expected. They are remarkable. Let me put it this way, Mr. Stricken. Take ten minutes to demonstrate the skills necessary and another ten minutes to explain the rules of the sport to them, and then they would easily win the Olympic gold medal for that event and their human opponents wouldn’t even have a chance.”
    “I’m not rigging the Tour de France, Doctor, hilarious as that would be. I’m talking combat capabilities.”
    “Weapons familiarity training has been going well. Since we last spoke I have tested the first prototype against captured vampires of various strains and ages. A particularly nasty, well fed, fifty-year-old specimen only survived two and a half minutes of hand-to-hand combat.”
    “That’s my boy.”
    “He is still by far the most capable of the prototypes, but I hope the others catch up.” Dr. Bhaskara was justifiably proud. “I have no doubt that if we had a Master to test against, our prototypes would stand an excellent chance at winning.”
    That was probably pushing it. The doctor had read papers about Master vamps, but Stricken had dealt with them up close and personal. He wasn’t placing any bets. But luckily Stricken had a baker’s dozen of growth tanks that could pump out a new body every six months. And since this whole Project was stupidly illegal and he wasn’t even supposed to be testing, he’d done all that in secret. Once Franks was removed from the equation and he got an official go-ahead, he’d build hundreds of tanks. Then he’d have the quality and quantity to take all comers.
    “Are you confident in their ability to follow orders?” That was his greatest concern. He’d taken them out for a few little things, like bodyguarding him that time he’d confronted Earl Harbinger in Alaska, or popping some easy targets of opportunity, but the prototypes had never done anything too complex yet. What he had in mind would be challenging.
    “Absolutely. All of our psychological testing has shown that they are completely incapable of disloyalty. They are programmed to obey no matter what.”
    Programming was appropriate. They were basically like robots made out of flesh. He’d seen some of the footage of those tests. Order a prototype to hold a position no matter what, and then you could inflict all manner of pain and suffering on it, but they’d rather die than budge. Electrocute them, set them on fire, it didn’t matter. It had been harsh, but fascinating. “The outside world isn’t quite as sterile as your lab.”
    “Should one go rogue, we can simply activate the preprogrammed kill switch.” Conover’s treachery had caused them to add that improvement. “Even as incredibly resilient as their systems are, the release of the neurotoxin would incapacitate them instantly, and before you ask, yes, the rapid necrotic dissolution will destroy the evidence. Even their blood decays too quickly to extract DNA evidence.”
    “It’s