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Dr. Smith-Harnett took a step backward, his eyes open wide at Jorah's harsh words. "That is not my doing. I had nothing to do with that!"

"There was a woman in there, they just—they attacked!"

The doctor hung his head, his hand over his eyes. "I thought I got everyone out." He raised his head. "You have to understand, normally there are men with guns — a lot of them. We don't have choices here. We are told what to do. I've been kept here, haven't even seen the light of day for months now. As soon as they left, I moved the ones they stuck in there with the violent ones into their own room."

Jorah studied the man's pasty color. He could believe the man. Why not? Humans did so many other outrageous things. Holding scientists hostage didn't seem all that strange. "Do you know who we are?"

"I saw you on TV at the Marine Center, and I've known of Atlantians for some time now. I even had the pleasure of meeting a few of them, before... Well before... they would take them away." The doctor looked away. "Besides I'm used to people who are, shall we say, different. That's what I do here--Genetic Manipulation."

Jorah stared at the doctor. "What do you mean?"

Dr. Smith-Harnett pulled a remote from his pocket and smiled. "This!"

With one click over a dozen of the rooms lit up. Each one held one occupant, and they were all decorated as if these were their personal bedrooms, completely different from those first rooms Jorah and his men had looked at. Blues, pinks, purples, greens all with adequate light and a normal, bright-eyed human--sort of.

One held a man so tall, the ceiling must have been adjusted to contain him. Another used a treadmill, his feet moving so fast it started to smoke. A woman raised her head from the book she was reading and waved--her very long ears. A second woman tipped her head and offered a slight smile then slunk out of sight, but not before her eyes flashed white at Jorah.

Changed DNA like Atlantians, but without the finesse.

"They are all stuck here like me," the doctor said continuing but with a proud note to his voice. "But I make sure they have good living arrangements. Same as me."

Jorah looked from the doctor to the people and back again. This solved the last piece of the puzzle. "How do you make them like that?"

"Well, it is a bit of a procedure, first we..."

"Do you have a—what do you call it—a shot?"

"Well, we have been using a DNA machine, but I have recently developed something." The doctor bristled up with excitement and walked over to a drawer. He removed what looked like a blue hard-plastic gun. "It's a DNA gun. Injects the DNA right into a person via a small bullet."

"I need that," Jorah said quickly snatching the gun from the doctor, "along with any 'bullets' that will make us Atlantians what we are."

The doctor threw up his hands, and with a loud voice said "What are you talking about? We aren't working on Atlantians. That is the last thing these History people want."

"What is the closest thing to it?"

Dr. Smith-Harnett lowered his voice as he looked from Blake to Jorah. "I have a secret project based on Atlantian research. History doesn't know I can get into it." He chuckled.

It was clear to Jorah that the doctor was trying to avoid cameras, he nodded at his men to take them out. A few dramatic blasts of sparks later, Dr. Smith-Harnett had laid out a bag of plastic vials on a metal table. Each contained a small pellet.

The doctor pointed from the pellets to the gun. "These go in there. I've put in every kind of DNA that could account for the differences in Atlantians. Well, what I know anyway. But you can't use these; they're too powerful. I've only ever mixed one other DNA with human's, I don't know what would happen. It could kill someone."

Jorah stared at the vials and ran a hand around his neck. The indecision weighed heavy on him.

Dr. Smith-Harnett laid his hand over the vials. "You can't. Do you understand that whoever you use them on could die?"

It was almost as if that is what made up Jorah's mind. Thinking of the historic event that would make them who they are, he pushed aside the doctor's hand and took the DNA gun and all the vials. "We will be dying anyway."

A loud bang sounded from the main room. Jorah signaled for the doctor to stay back as he and his men took the lead. A line of humans loaded down with heavy artillery, and dressed mainly in black, stood in front of the only exit. On seeing Jorah's group, an unarmed short but muscular man took a step forward.

Jorah looked him over assuming that the humans tried to be intimating. He couldn't stop himself from a small smirk as the human leader to another step forward stomping his boots against the floor like an angry toddler. Jorah shrugged a shoulder. They all seem small and rather childish to me. While he could accept that when he cared about them, when the humans became unreasonable, it irritated him.

"How nice to meet you," the short leader said. "And how nice of you to make this so easy for us."

Jorah almost rolled his eyes, instead, he turned to Dr. Smith-Harnett. The doctor trembled as his eyes scanned the new group and said, "I'm in trouble now."

"These are the ones who keep you prisoner?" Jorah asked.

"Yes, that is History. The latest one anyway. The leader. He's a mean one."

Jorah waved to the sick and infected people. "Did he do that?"

"Yes."

The leader took a small stomp forward upset that Jorah didn't seem concerned with their arrival. He opened his mouth to speak again. 

Jorah interrupted him. He smiled when he saw that it irritated the leader that his pompous speech was disregarded so thoroughly. "I would give you mercy," Jorah said, "but you give none to others. You treat your fellow kind without care as if you are somehow above them when in reality you are far below.

"What happens on the other side of these doors is because of you. What will go on behind these doors will be because of you. I have no more breath to waste on you. I have to clean up the mess you have let loose on this world."

Jorah turned to his men. "Throw them in there." He pointed to the room with the violent sick. "Treat them as they have treated others."

History and his men burst into laughter as they aimed their trusty guns at Jorah's men. There was no doubt in their mind they would win this one too, they won them all.

Before their fingers could twitch against the trigger, blue light danced between the two groups. The Atlantians fired their lasers, dropping their rivals to the ground instantly. The humans lay there aware and unhurt, but without the ability to move.

Even the burliest of the humans had tears trailing down their cheeks as they watched their brothers dragged to their horrifying deaths. Only when they heard the screams start, the sounds that echoed the many terrors that they themselves had inflicted did they wonder at the decisions that had led them to this day.

Jorah bent down and patted History on his limp shoulder. His face still wore shock over the quick turn of events.

"Do not feel bad," Jorah said. "You did not have a chance at victory. With these six men, I could destroy cities."

Jorah turned to Dr. Smith-Harnett. "You are free, and so are your enhanced people. I am not sure who will survive this disease but for now, you have your freedom."

Jorah took the lead as his men strode to the door. Blake glanced over his shoulder toward the screaming, but Jorah did not. He had learned long ago that for a leader some decisions were hard to make, and some were not.


A/N: Well, first I have to apologize for where I stopped the last chapter. I'm not sure why I did that, but here is the end of it. I hope you think it! :)

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