Chapter 6 The DNA Key

Damien didn't leave the laboratory that night. I watched as he worked frantically, accessing files, breaking through security protocols, assembling the puzzle pieces of a truth that had been systematically erased. Occasionally, he would look over at me, his expression a mixture of horror and desperate hope.

"If what I'm suspecting is true..." he murmured, running another DNA comparison algorithm. "If you really are..."

His voice trailed off as the laboratory door opened. Dr. Morris Chen—the surgeon who had purchased me at the auction, who had supervised my vivisection—entered with a tablet in hand.

"You requested an emergency consultation, Mr. Cross?" Dr. Chen asked, glancing curiously at the scattered items from the storage container.

Damien straightened. "Yes. I need your expertise on a classified matter. You performed the consciousness transfer from the female subject to the SPX-9 platform, correct?"

Dr. Chen nodded, a hint of pride in his expression. "The first completely successful human-to-animal transfer in medical history. A remarkable achievement."

"And the original subject—where did she come from? What was her background?"

Dr. Chen hesitated. "The documentation indicated she was a synthetic construct—a biological replica commissioned by Cross Biogenics to replicate your deceased partner."

"But you performed the preliminary examinations yourself," Damien pressed. "In your professional opinion, was there anything that suggested she might not have been synthetic?"

The doctor shifted uncomfortably. "Mr. Cross, these questions... Ms. Quinn was very specific about the subject's origins."

"I'm not asking what Vera told you," Damien said sharply. "I'm asking what you observed as a medical professional."

Dr. Chen was silent for a moment, then sighed. "There were... inconsistencies. The subject's cellular structure showed natural aging patterns that would be unusual in a synthetic construct. And the pregnancy—the fetal development appeared completely natural, not artificially initiated."

"What about these?" Damien held up a file. "These are bone marrow samples taken from the subject during the organ harvesting process."

Dr. Chen examined the data, frowning. "These show signs of previous cancer treatment. Specifically, the kind of cellular markers we'd expect to see in a patient who underwent experimental immunotherapy approximately five years ago."

"Like this treatment?" Damien pulled up another file—medical records with my name, from before we'd met. Records of my battle with leukemia at twenty-two, the experimental treatment that had saved my life.

Dr. Chen's eyes widened. "The markers match perfectly. But that would mean..."

"That would mean she wasn't a replica at all," Damien finished, his voice hollow. "She was the original. She was Aria."

I stood in my enclosure, watching the realization dawn across Dr. Chen's face. The truth, finally emerging.

"But the records clearly stated she died in a laboratory accident eighteen months ago," Dr. Chen protested.

"Records can be altered," Damien said grimly. "Memories can be manipulated. Especially with technology like this." He held up a small device—a neural interface identical to the one I had helped design years ago. "Our memory indexing technology. Created to help trauma patients recover lost memories... or to implant false ones."

Dr. Chen sat heavily in a chair. "If what you're suggesting is true... the ethical violations alone..."

"Go beyond ethics," Damien said. "This is murder. And I was made complicit." He turned to me, his eyes filled with anguish. "I need to be certain. I need absolute proof."

Dr. Chen hesitated, then nodded. "There is one definitive test. The DNA necklace you created for her—it contained a unique molecular signature, impossible to replicate. If we compare it to samples from both the original body and the canine subject..."

"The original body has been processed," Damien said. "But we preserved tissue samples."

"That should be sufficient."

For the next several hours, I watched them work. Dr. Chen extracted a small sample from my canine form while Damien retrieved the preserved tissue samples from my human body. They worked methodically, comparing both to the DNA strands in the crystal pendant.

I couldn't read the complex data scrolling across their screens, but I could read Damien's face as the results appeared. He stumbled backward, bracing himself against a table.

"It's a perfect match," Dr. Chen confirmed quietly. "Both samples—from the canine subject and from the original body—match the DNA in the pendant. They are all from the same person. Aria Evelyn Hart."

Damien's composure shattered. He sank to his knees, his whole body shaking. "What have I done?" he whispered. "What have I done to her?"

Dr. Chen placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder. "You didn't know."

"I should have known!" Damien shouted, surging to his feet. "She was my partner, the mother of my child, and I let them cut her open while she was conscious! I watched them harvest her organs! I let them tell me she was just a copy!"

I whined softly, the closest approximation to comfort I could offer in this form.

Damien approached my enclosure, placing his palm against the glass. "Aria... Evelyn... can you ever forgive me?"

Before I could respond—not that any response would have been adequate—an alert sounded from the laboratory console.

"Alert: Vera Quinn has returned to the premises."

Damien's expression hardened. "Where is she now?"

"Executive suite, east wing."

"Lock down all exits. Security protocol Cross Omega. No one leaves the building."

"Acknowledged. Security lockdown initiated."

Dr. Chen looked alarmed. "What are you going to do?"

"Get answers," Damien replied grimly. "And then try to fix what can be fixed." He turned back to me. "I'm going to make this right. Somehow."

He released the lock on my enclosure—the first time I had been truly free since my transformation. I stepped out cautiously, still not entirely comfortable in this quadruped form.

"Come with me," he said softly. "She needs to face what she's done."

We found Vera in Damien's office, calmly reviewing reports as if nothing were amiss. She looked up with a practiced smile as we entered, only her eyes betraying surprise at seeing me unrestrained beside Damien.

"Darling, you're working too hard," she said smoothly. "And why is the subject out of containment? The protocols clearly state—"

"Her name is Aria," Damien interrupted, his voice deadly quiet. "Aria Evelyn Hart. My partner. The woman carrying my child. The woman you told me was dead."

Vera's smile faltered only slightly. "Damien, you're confused. The strain of the project—"

"Stop lying!" he shouted, slamming his fist down on the desk. "We have the DNA proof. The bone marrow samples. The cancer treatment markers. There is no replica. There never was. You took her—the real her—and you erased her, piece by piece."

For a moment, Vera remained perfectly still. Then her expression changed, the pleasant mask falling away to reveal something cold and calculating beneath.

"You were becoming weak," she said finally. "Distracted by sentimentality. Talking about abandoning your life's work to play house with her, to chase some ridiculous dream of space colonization." She gestured dismissively toward me. "She was making you small, Damien. I made you great again."

"You altered my memories," he said, his voice shaking with rage. "You used the memory index to make me forget who she was, to make me believe she was just an experiment."

Vera shrugged elegantly. "The technology was there. You created it. I simply found a more... practical application." She stepped closer to him. "Everything I did, I did for us. For the company. For your legacy."

"My legacy?" Damien laughed bitterly. "My legacy is watching the woman I loved being vivisected while conscious. My legacy is a child discarded as medical waste. My legacy is this—" he gestured to me "—trapping her consciousness in an animal's body while harvesting her organs."

"Necessary sacrifices," Vera replied coldly. "The consciousness transfer was a triumph. The military contracts alone will make us billions."

I growled low in my throat, advancing toward her. She stepped back, a flicker of fear crossing her face.

"Call off your pet," she snapped.

"She's not a pet," Damien said quietly. "She's Aria. And I think she has every right to hate you."

Dr. Chen entered the office, accompanied by two security officers. "The restoration equipment is ready," he reported. "But I must warn you, the prognosis is... not good."

Damien turned to him. "What do you mean?"

Dr. Chen's expression was grim. "The consciousness transfer was never meant to be permanent. It was designed as a temporary measure, with the expectation that the original body would be preserved for return transfer. But her body has been... processed. Most organs harvested, tissues degraded. And the consciousness fragmentation in the canine form is progressing faster than we anticipated."

"Meaning what?" Damien demanded.

"Meaning her consciousness is breaking down. The canine brain, even enhanced, cannot sustain a human mind indefinitely. And without a viable host body to return to..." Dr. Chen shook his head. "The system estimates complete neural collapse within seventy-two hours."

"There must be something we can do," Damien insisted, desperation creeping into his voice. "Synthetic bodies, neural preservation tanks—anything!"

"The technology exists in experimental form," Dr. Chen admitted. "But the success rate for damaged consciousness transfer is extremely low. According to our models, approximately 1.2%."

Vera laughed softly. "You see? It's over, Damien. Accept it. We'll call it a noble failure and move on to the next project."

Damien turned to her, his expression murderous. "Have the security team escort Ms. Quinn to containment. Full restrictions, no communications."

As the officers led a protesting Vera away, Damien knelt beside me, gently stroking my fur. "I'm going to fix this," he promised, his voice breaking. "Whatever it takes. I'm going to bring you back."

I leaned against him, wishing I could speak, wishing I could tell him that I forgave him—because I did. He had been manipulated, his memories altered, his love for me weaponized against both of us. Vera was the true monster.

"Dr. Chen," Damien said, rising to his feet with new determination, "prepare the restoration chamber. We're going to attempt the transfer."

"With what host body?" Dr. Chen asked. "We don't have a viable—"

"We have mine," Damien interrupted quietly.

Dr. Chen's eyes widened. "Sir, that's not how the technology works. You can't simply—"

"I built this technology," Damien said. "I know exactly how it works. And I know there's a theoretical protocol—the life exchange protocol. A complete consciousness swap."

"That's never been tested! It's purely theoretical, and the projected survival rate is virtually zero!"

"1.2% isn't zero," Damien replied, his voice steady. "And I owe her that chance."

He looked down at me, his eyes filled with love and regret. "I'm going to make this right, Aria. I promise."