In the early years, they’d been eager and cooperative. Later, though, as they produced generation after generation of psychotic human-alien hybrids, bitterness had emerged, and something he supposed was their version of contempt. Elements fundamental to the human brain could not support alien thought processes. For them, it must have been like trying to cram human intelligence into the brain of a chimpanzee.

They never indicated disapproval, but kept on doggedly trying until one day they were, quite simply, gone. Most thought this was because they had failed. Some thought perhaps they had succeeded.

How his heart had leaped with hope when he saw that first image. But then he’d thought, It’s got the same sort of white skin that I designed, and he felt the first chill of what had become the full-blown panic he was in now.

As he descended the spiral staircase, moving carefully to avoid slipping and breaking a leg, concentrating on every step, he did not hear the faint scrape of the manhole cover being closed far above him. He never dreamed—could not have conceived—that someone who appeared not to be a gen three, but rather Corporal Al Knots—the now-dead Knotty of Mark Bryan’s unit—had laid the cover extractor back in the trunk of Tom’s rental car, got in, and reached under the dashboard. A moment later, the engine started and he drove out of the parking lot and was soon absorbed into the San Francisco traffic.

By the time Tom reached the bottom of the shaft, he had advanced into a new level of fear. It was very dark here, with the sound of dripping, and along the low concrete ceiling pale stalactites were hanging down.

He had considered bringing a weapon, but had decided against it. A gun would not only send the wrong message, it would be useless. They could flicker up to him, take it, and step away long before he could even form a decision to pull the trigger, and they would know that very well.

He hadn’t told anyone where he was going, although it wouldn’t take more than a few minutes to determine that he’d flown to Travis. After that, though, it would get much harder. The records of this lab had not just been buried, they’d been erased. He had made certain of that.