Chương 116: Chapter 115 – Sticky, Icky, Things

Doctor Wentworth studied the sample under the microscope, scratching his head before glancing down at his notes. He checked the slide again, then leaned back in his chair, completely baffled.

"You'd think this would be easier with this abomination being of mixed race," he muttered.

"But the DNA is so closely linked it's almost impossible to differentiate the two strands. I can't isolate the antibody the nanobot needs to attach to." He rubbed his forehead, frustration rising.

"Trula, I need tissue samples," he called out.

"Using the specimen's blood isn't getting me any closer to a breakthrough. If I had more time, I could study his DNA down to its fundamental molecular structure. But Mordak gave us a meager month to get this DNA fed into the nanobots. It's not going to work." He threw his arms up.

"I don't even understand this creature's physiology. How am I supposed to devise a nanobot weapon to destroy crucial bodily functions when I don't know how those functions work? They appear similar to us genetically, but for all I know this creature has organs goblins don't… or is missing ones we have." He hurled his clipboard against the wall and sucked in a sharp breath.

"Sir… how do you intend to proceed?" Trula asked, hesitant. Wentworth stared at the specimen, lost in thought. Then a small smile crept across his face.

"I don't see any way around it. We're going to have to dissect the specimen and see what makes it tick."

"But sir… it's still alive," Trula said, horrified.

"How better to study its inner workings? If it were dead, it would just be a pile of meat, now wouldn't it?" Wentworth replied coldly. Trula looked from Wentworth to Armand, then back again.

"Should I get the anesthesiologist?" This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

"What would be the point? Waste of time and resources. Give him another sedative and pray the poor SOB doesn't wake up. And make sure the restraints are tight… the last thing I need is to slice a finger while I'm in there." The detachment in his voice made Trula shiver.

"Yes, sir," he whispered.

"I need to gear up. Get him prepped for when I return." Wentworth headed toward the door.

"I also want to check on our other subject… the one I injected with the nanobot tech. If he's showing symptoms, it might help me devise a broad‑spectrum nanobot that infects regardless of species. Doubtful, but worth looking at." He left the room and walked down the dim corridor toward the makeshift prison holding Joe and Armand. He checked his watch… eighteen hours since he'd injected the Elven subject. So far, no signs of infection or illness. It had been a long shot, but he needed certainty.

The guard buzzed him in. Wentworth donned his protective suit and helmet while another guard snapped gloves onto his hands.

"All set?" the guard asked.

"Any change since yesterday?" Wentworth asked.

"No Doc, nothing like that, he just keeps screaming for Armand, or crying about his wife, or Brayton and Braxton and how they didn't deserve what was done to 'um. I dunno maybe he is delirious or maybe he's just a pain in the ass. At any rate the whole thing is getting old, he hasn't quit, he hasn't even slept."

"Well, maybe his blood work will reveal something we haven't been able to see. I don't necessarily want him sedated, I want to be aware of any changes as they happen and if he can't vocalize what's going on, he really would be of little to no use to me." Wentworth said, motioning for the guard to open the door. He motioned for the door to be opened. Wentworth grabbed a bag from the shelf, pulled out a blood draw kit, and stepped inside. Joe glared at him.

"If I ever get out of here, I'm going to slice you up like you had them do to my dogs, you heartless piece of…"

"The only way you will be leaving here is maybe in a body bag, and that is only if I have one available to put you in, I'm afraid." Wentworth said calmly, pulling a chair beside the stretcher Joe was strapped to.

"The guards would appreciate it if you'd give it a rest. Your ranting is getting old."

"Where's Armand? What have you done to him?" Joe demanded as Wentworth tightened the tourniquet around his arm.

"He's being prepped as we speak. I need to understand what makes you things tick, so I'm going to open him up and see what's what." Joe's eyes widened.

"So, you killed him?"

"No. He's still very much alive. But I can't guarantee he'll survive the dissection." Joe's mouth dropped open.

"You're going to take him apart… while he's…" He swallowed hard.

"He's still alive?" he gulped, watching the needle break the skin.