DANTE

“So,” I began, staring around at the table of dragons and humans, all older than me. “Tell me where we stand on progress with the vessels.”

Vessels. Not clones. Both Talon and the scientists refused to call them clones, despite them being exactly that. Genetic replicas, grown in vat from the DNA of their original counterparts. I didn’t know the reasoning behind this. Maybe Talon thought the term clone too demeaning, as if we as a race would somehow be lessened for creating carbon copies of ourselves. Or maybe it was something else. Personally, I found the term vessel even more disturbing, because it implied they were just there to be filled. That they were empty. That something inside was missing.

Regardless, my personal tastes didn’t matter. Whatever we called them, I had a job to do, and I wouldn’t fail.

I observed the table before me with cool detachment, noting everyone in attendance. Dr. Olsen, the lead scientist, sat on one side looking impatient, as if he would rather be at work. Another human, the one responsible for the care and general well-being of the vessels, sat beside him. Mr. Schulz was a small, severe man, all points and hard angles, with a thin mouth and impassive black eyes. He was, to hear Dr. Olsen speak of him, quite brilliant with the vessels, but I wouldn’t put anything small and vulnerable in his care and expect it to live very long. A human female with thick glasses hovered over her tablet on the other side of the table, and seemed quite nervous about being there. Or maybe it was who she was seated next to that was disconcerting.

A massive black man with huge scarred forearms sat in the chair to the woman’s left, his elbows resting on the table and his chin on his knuckles. Four pale claw marks were slashed down his right eye, rendering it blind, but by no means decreasing his lethality. He was, of course, a dragon, a young adult who was known simply as Mace. I didn’t know much about him, just that he was a higher-ranking dragon who trained young Gilas for combat and protection work. And that he didn’t think much of me. I’d seen him curl a lip in my direction the second I walked in, no doubt wondering why he was under the command of some skinny Chameleon hatchling he’d never seen before. That was fine. I didn’t need him to like me; I just needed him to follow orders.

“Progress?” Dr. Olsen repeated, sounding faintly insulted. “We have awakened nine more vessels without setbacks or side effects, bringing the total number up to twenty-two. Eighteen of those vessels have been able to Shift and hold a human form for a minimum of forty-eight hours, and could possibly do so for longer if we order it. They are able to learn and retain an enormous amount of information in a short period, and once they have memorized a command, they do not forget. I’d say progress has been extraordinary, Mr. Hill.”

“But there was an incident recently,” I said, making him frown. “With one of the vessels. Something where you couldn’t control it, is that correct?”

“Well...yes, but—”

“One of the vessels attacked a worker,” Mr. Schulz said, his nasal voice interrupting the scientist. “We don’t know what set it off, but during a normal exercise it turned and savaged one of its handlers, nearly killing him before we could subdue it. After the incident, it became docile and responsive again, but we’ve had it in isolation since the attack.”

“What can we do to prevent such attacks in the future?”

“We don’t know,” the woman said, looking up from her tablet. “Its programming should have made it impossible for it to attack anyone in the facility.” She shook her head and glanced at the screen again, fingers tapping. “We’re testing it by itself now to see if we can pinpoint the trigger. But it might just have been a glitch in the brain cells that caused it to act out.”

I nodded and finally turned my attention to the other dragon in the room, who met my gaze with cold apathy. “Just Mace, is that correct?” I asked, and he nodded once. “You’ve seen the vessels in action. How soon can you have them in full fighting force?”

He smirked. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“Lots of things. Can they follow orders? How fast do they learn commands? Will they work together, or will it be like training a pack of hounds that hate each other? Because let’s face it—those...things aren’t really dragons.” His expression twisted into one of pure contempt. “They’re dogs that look like us and can Shift into human form, that’s all.”

“I beg your pardon!” Dr. Olsen exclaimed, half rising from his chair. “Dogs? You couldn’t even begin to understand the complexity of these vessels, sir. Their genetic makeup is nearly identical to your own, perhaps even improved upon. Their growth rate, learning capacity, everything, has been accelerated, and they have been programmed with the highest intelligence possible while still maintaining their tractability. They are a marvel of science, technology and ancient magic, and they certainly are not simply dogs that can change their shape at will.”