Destroyer 117: Deadly Genes

By Warren Murphy and Richard Sapir

Chapter 1

They held a press conference to introduce it to the world.

It was smaller than the crowd expected, tipping the scales at just over 120 pounds. It was compact, but not in a menacing way. Its designers hadn't been worried about style; they were more concerned with practicality. And of its practicality, all were certain. Their success offered hope, so they said, of feeding all who were hungry in the world. There was only one real question that vexed the assembled press corps.

"Can we pet it?"

Dr. Judith White of BostonBio, Incorporated, smiled. "Of course you can. She's quite docile."

"She?" the Boston television reporter asked.

Dr. White nodded. "This one is female. We have four more like her and three males. Enough for a limited, controlled-breeding population."

The reporter worked for one of the three major Boston stations as the entertainment and human-interest correspondent, which meant that-unlike an anchorwoman-she could afford the extra forty pounds that cushioned her midriff and backside. The added weight had the effect of making her appear both nonthreatening to viewers when she was reviewing movies and hysterically funny any time she went white-water rafting or tried to saddle a horse.

The entertainment correspondent reached out and touched the creature on its broad nose. It blinked. She jumped back, startled.

"It's perfectly harmless," Dr. White assured her. For the brilliant Judith White-the star of BostonBio's genetic-engineering department-affability was a supreme effort. She did not suffer fools gladly.

With the blessing of the higher-ups at BostonBio, Dr. White had called the local TV stations and newspapers in order to introduce what she called a "significant scientific achievement" to the world. She was surprised that of the few TV reporters who showed up to cover the great unveiling at BostonBio, all were human-interest correspondents. The greatest breakthrough in the history of science was being given the same treatment as a boat show or Star Trek convention. The only way it could have been worse was if the stations had sent the Boston weathermen, a collection of freaks so bizarre P. T. Barnum would have balked at exhibiting them.