The Gene Genie

Sylvia Black was young; in her thirties.  She was not a philosophical person by nature.  She hadn't seen as much as certain agents in the GSEA.  But the lucidity of that simple truth was nowhere more readily apparent.

She had seen enough.

In a world of multispecies cohabitation, with thousands of races, different forms of life shouldn't unnerve a person.  They had about as much experience as Starfleet in that area.

Some of the 'first contacts' her people made, however...

People in her agency had seen things no Starfleet officer ever saw... or would want to.

One of her earlier cases involved humanoids grown for the black sex market – if they could be called humanoid... genetically altered, with the libido of Ferengi and sensual craving of Deltans.  Sex.  Their only purpose.  Not thinking, learning, social interaction, or anything else.  Just sex.  Sex on steroids.  They couldn't get enough.  They'd grab any object in reach and use it to achieve orgasm.  They needed orgasms, nonstop.  It was horrifying.

Then there were the extreme cases – mutations, crossovers... live sex toys, missing body parts, covered in vaginas, penises, clitorises.  Pelvises with legs and arms.

What sentients could do... she would never have imagined possible.  It would have given her bad dreams, if not for medication to control bad dreams.

Genetic science and technology was a fact of life.  It had its positive uses, and negative.  There was no escaping it.  This was why organizations like the GSEA existed.

They were four agents: Agent Sylvia Black, Agent Thelaniok (Andorian), Agent Sarrak (a Vulcan), and Agent Dawn Castle, who looked and seemed human (down to her name), but wasn't.

They moved through the corridor on deck five, into the turbolift, one deck down and out a second later, with that unified, measured stride GSEA agents shared – matching outfits in neutral colors, professional haircuts, professional demeanor.

There came a time in a culture's history when, harnessing the power of the gene, they stood at a crossroads, of creating a stratified society, or lessening the yoke of division.  In money-driven markets, the former usually occurred, with gene modifications going to the highest bidder, the wealthiest patrons.  The poor, less fortunate might remain unmodified, or receive minimal upgrades.  On the other side sat the more enlightened, who improved themselves and their species for improvement's sake (or just because they could – the stated reasons were various).

Black wasn't from Earth, but her ancestors were.  She had to know history to be an agent.  On Earth, both had occurred.

Agent Sarrak stepped to the front of the group.  He was angry, not hiding it, but keeping it under control.  Sylvia ended up walking beside him, intentional on his part.

The Vulcan shot her a look.  They didn't like discussing matters openly, so he resorted to complants:

She wondered how he managed to recover from the emotion virus, and still show emotions... and function on top of that.  ~I wasn't certain if his project was technically illegal.~

They passed Starfleet officers in the corridor, and a couple of civilians, who glanced at them curiously and got out of the way.

~I said I thought it was~, Sylvia returned.  ~As in, could be.  He kept his notes secure, in a heavily encrypted bank.  I was only his assistant.  He didn't share anything with me or anyone else that he didn't have to.  I had to wait to be sure.~

~You've broken several violations of operational procedure, Agent Black – and not for the first time, I might add.~  Sarrak gave her a straightforward look.  ~I intend to put you up for review.~

Starfleet involvement wasn't really what bothered Sarrak.  Sylvia knew how Starfleet worked; they had been taken off-guard too many times over the years, to not finally wise up and institute stronger security measures.  Othaniel Ariz was locked down, and not getting away again.  She still wasn't certain if what he was doing was entirely illegal.  Guilty of animal rights violations, at least.  But that would be a matter for the courts to decide.

And it wasn't that he didn't like her.  What really bothered Sarrak, and Sylvia, was the situation.

The Federation outlawed genetic engineering – in a manner of speaking.  While it was technically illegal, the lines between what was legal and illegal had blurred.  Genetic enhancements were another matter, and once infrequent, becoming commonplace.  Cloning happened every day – cloning of limbs, cloning of animals... cloning of people.  Just look at the Arcturians.  Except when it happened to people, they didn't call it cloning.  They called it regeneration, or reconstitution, or re-pick a word.  The simple regrowing of a person from a few cells.  Why die, when you can be reconstituted?  The Dominion taught them the advantages in that... but it was something they had already known, deep down, for centuries.  Not something the Federation wanted to readily give into, right after the war – too many raw memories, still fresh – but they knew.

And now they had people changing bodies like they changed clothes, enhancing themselves this way and that, selecting children's appearances and abilities while they were still embryos, breeding special pets...  It was nothing new.  The genie had been out of the bottle for centuries.  Genetically modified foodstuffs helped to feed the starving millions after World War Three on Earth, and after the plague on Denobula.  The Federation Council tried to regulate it, control it, restrict it, but there were too many advantages to completely ignore it.

It made the job of organizations like the Genetic Standards Enforcement Agency that much harder.  What were the standards now, that they were meant to enforce?  They were shifting.  The lines were being redrawn, every day.  They were blurry to begin with.

It didn't take long to reach the ship's brig.  From Deck Five, where they beamed in, it was a short walk to the nearest turbolift, one deck down, back out of the lift a second later, another short stride to the security section.  Starfleet made their ships efficient, with easy access in case of emergencies.

In the time she had left, right after versing with Sarrak, Sylvia managed to fall back, and tuned in Thelaniok.  She never met another Andorian she liked more – they hit it off, since they first met.  Fortunately, he happened to be her partner.  She had some steam to vent, and he was her sounding board – a role he seemed to accept proudly.

It was a silly question; of course he did.  Every agent had to know history; not just their own but others'.

~Is this about the Eugenics Wars?~  He referred to the early stages of Earth's genetic stratification, as men and women secretly in power over a quarter of the planet tried to destroy each other (and the world).  After the so-called supermen's defeat, politicians promised 'never again'... but that was politics.  They hadn't learned yet, that once the genie was out, there was no stopping it.

Beneath his white hair and antennae, his blue brow furrowed in thought.  ~As I recall, there was an energy crisis, environmental catastrophe... leading to mass starvation, hoarding of resources, and thus armed conflict.~

~Ah yes.~  He nodded.  ~The infamous Colonel Green.  'Green Gene'.  Genetic purification movement.~

~Purification.~  Black snorted.  ~Green was such a hypocrite.  The pot calling the kettle black.~  She paused at the reference, shrugged and continued, ~People like Green used the war as a vehicle for their agenda... trying to wipe out the genetically modified masses.~

Thelaniok understood the hypocrite reference: Green, himself, was one of the 'supermen' supposedly wiped out fifty years prior.  He survived, under the radar, through long life bestowed by his enhancements.  Green wasn't his original name, although they hadn't learned that until the Department of Temporal Investigations, through the Department of Cultural Information, released that little tidbit a few years ago.  ~Records indicate that he failed,~ Thelaniok said.

WW3 wiped out a lot of the early genemods (genetically modified humans).  But some survived, and procreated, mixing into the common gene pool.  The modifications on the human genome rippled through the rest of the 21st century, the 22nd, and outwards.  Nearly every human alive today had genetic modifications in their ancestry.

That was why it bothered Sylvia, being in this job.  Why it bothered her when the government reared its political head – the United Earth politicians, exerting influence through the Federation Council (more politicians) – and put on a show of intolerance for the 'headliners', those who made first-download news in such matters, whenever they came along.  The Bashirs.  Adigeon Prime.  The civilization of Arcturia.  Kathleen Enterprises.  The Bajoran geneticist, Retona Kal.

And now Othaniel Ariz.  He hadn't made news yet.  If the agency had its way, he never would.  But Sylvia had gotten to know him; he didn't care about making news.  He was like a kid with his favorite toy.  He just wanted to have fun.  Pretty damned irresponsible, but every society had its loose cannons, its wild child element.