(For the whump table prompt 'betrayed' and the word count table free space (350). Happy 007 Fest!)
"The function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.” M closed the book, his voice heavy with regret.
Q clenched his glass. It was largely because of M that James Bond would never use his time again.
“To James,” they toasted: Tanner, Nomi, Q, Moneypenny. M.
The alcohol burned down Q’s throat.
Shortly after 007 had left a bottle of champagne in lieu of a vehicle, 002 had been captured in a remote part of Kazakhstan. He’d had Smart Blood in his system; Q had steered backup to his location within six hours. “He’s not here,” Nomi had reported.
“What are you talking about? Of course he’s—”
“There’s a dialysis machine in the corner and an IV hooked up to a local.”
Q had swallowed and stared at the resting heart rate on his screen: 58 beats per minute. A little high for Tom, he’d thought, but he’d dismissed it as related to an injury or sedative. Instead they’d suborned Q’s connection to his agent and stolen him away.
They’d found Tom’s body two days later.
“This is not your fault,” Mallory had told him afterward. “But I think you can see why there’s a new interest in DNA-locking your nanobots to their intended Smart Blood targets.”
Nanobots and DNA. Q had done the research, made the connections, constructed the prototypes that Obruchev must have used as the foundations for Heracles. He’d done it despite the prickling in the back of his mind that said, eugenics, that said, how much do we trust any government to—
But he’d thought of Tom, and This is M, he won’t—
Only now James was gone, his days not wasted but stolen.
In the present, Mallory said, “Right, back to work,” exuding the weariness of a general.
Had Mallory only taken advantage of Tom’s death? Or had he orchestrated it, working towards Heracles even then?
M had lost his right to secrets. To privacy. To biosecurity.
If necessary… Well. The UI for Heracles ought to be familiar enough.
