Since Raka’s meeting with the council, the focus of the Aryan laboratory had moved to DNA and using it for transformation. General Tora-Fuliar envisioned an army of Draconian soldiers with which he could conquer the world. The council leader visited the lab each week for a progress report and was increasingly frustrated at the lack of results. DNA experiments required creative scientists, and creativity was not something the militaristic Aryans were noted for. It was evident that the best talent came from Atlantis. An aggressive recruitment campaign was mounted there.
The Light healers on Atlantis were primarily motivated by their desire to serve the higher Light of God with love. This intention provided them with the clarity to heal from a pure state of giving. Loving came forward and lifted the healer and the patient. The healer’s material needs—food, shelter, and clothing—came as a part of their serving. The glamour of substantial gains and recognition offered by the Aryans, however, began to distract them from the reward of serving. Increasingly generous offers seduced the Atlantean Light workers away from the healing temples to the Aryan DNA research labs. Even some high priests sold their knowledge and healing secrets to the dark empire.
The DNA experiments on Aryan required a high-quality controlled food source. Scientists used everything from cows to mice. But the trials were not without challenge. The Aryan’s successes in cloning had sparked fierce debates among scientists and the public. The people of Atlantis questioned the morality of cloning plants, animals, and possibly humans. But few knew that cloning was just a cover for a secret project of DNA experiments combining animal and human DNA. On the surface, it was producing novelty animals that had become big business on Aryan. Wealthy families and even countries were buying hybrids like Minotaur and Centaurs.
The clone business on Aryan also played into Raka’s plan for revenge. Once he had become adept at using his new body, he made his way back to the city. He set up an observation outpost in an abandoned structure in the remote industrial area where the DNA research complex was located. Now that he had a plan, he could afford to be patient. For several weeks he watched the movements of the scientists, military, and guards.
The general routinely showed up alone in his golden anti-gravity vehicle at the end of the workweek, parking away from the building to avoid attention. He appeared to be meeting with Dr. Aimee, the director of the science facility, for progress reports on his new military species.
As days—then weeks—passed, Raka’s patience started to wear thin. If progress weren’t made soon, even the general would realize that he wasn’t going to be able to produce an army of warriors like Raka—an army Raka fully intended to take over. Pacing in his ramshackle hideout, with a heightened awareness of everything around him, Raka sensed the time was approaching for him make his move. He felt increasingly impatient, believing he would soon know the moment to strike.
By the time the general returned to the facility, Raka was nearly bursting out of his skin. It took incredible self-control to hold himself back and merely observe. His senses perked up as he saw the general storm out of the facility. The man appeared furious, a sure sign he had received more bad news. The irate general made his way to his flyer and slammed its door. Raka couldn’t believe his eyes; the general had caught his hand in the door. Even from this distance, Raka could hear the general bellow in pain as he jumped out of the vehicle, blood spurting from his self-inflicted wound. Raka immediately smelled the warm, precious blood, urging him into a frenzy. The general’s screams pushed Raka over the edge, and he burst from his hiding place, streaking across the open field toward the wounded, infuriated man.
The general was not aware of Raka’s presence until it was too late. A brutal blow from Raka’s tail rendered his victim unconscious. Raka with his razor-like talons grabbed the general by the collar. With his brute dragon strength, the dragon picked up the general like a ragdoll and flew back to his hiding place. Inside, he threw the general onto a battered table. The stunned man moaned as he struggled back to consciousness. When the general’s vision cleared, his eyes grew wide at the sight of the dragon standing above him, foul saliva dripping from the creature’s lips fell on his head. “Wha...”
Raka grinned and put one of his talons to his lips. “Shhh, General, not that anyone can hear you in here.” He reached out a hand-like claw offering to help the general sit up. Reflexively, the general grasped Raka’s nail and struggled to a sitting position. Raka slowly placed his other claw on the general’s shoulder. Then, with a ghastly smile, Raka viciously yanked the general’s hand and ripped the general’s entire arm from its socket. As his victim screamed in terror and agony, Raka regarded the arm thoughtfully. He began to gnaw on it with relish. The general lived long enough to see Raka devour his other arm and start on his legs. He did not live long enough to see Raka transform into a perfect replica of the man he was consuming.
As Raka finished licking the last of the general’s blood from the floor, he heaved a contented sigh. He lay down to rest and recover once the transformation was complete. He closed his eyes, reveling in the thoughts of what he could do now as the head of the Aryan Military Council.
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