Gene Drifters: The Clone Soldier Chronicles-Book III (14 page)

Ah, Hawaii
, thought Rose.

Unfortunately for a second, the spam smell doused the faint
trace on Gimlet, and Rose had to double back to catch it.

“I’ve picked it up again. It would seem she has come this
way. But the smell was stronger in the tunnel. I think they brought her in by
the same portal we used. I keep losing the scent. The food here smells
fabulous. Oh, there, I’ve got the trace again.” Rose trotted from place to
place, sniffing. No one noticed her because to them, she just looked like a
normal dog; and Rose could do a passable “normal dog” when she had to.

“I can’t believe this place. It’s so much bigger than our
#4. I’ve counted seven restaurants already. They even have an Indian chaat
place. Did you see that, back there? I wonder if we have time for take-out. I
never get Indian food.” Roxanne looked around in awe at bubble-stop #3. She had
never been around the place; she had only stayed at a loading dock that one
time she’d subbed for Morton during his nose replacement.

“This is more like the stops in San Fran and Tokyo. But it
stands to reason, Roxanne. The places near a land base are always bigger
because there are more people to supply, and thus, the need for a more
substantive bubble-stop. Ours and #2 are just water bubbles, like a highway
rest stop used to be. Oh, here, turn left here.” Rose hung a left at a corner
housing a British style pub. They could smell frying fish and stale ale.

“Yes well, and don’t forget bubble-stop #5. That one is also
water-based. Dad actually stopped there one time, back when he was still the
rig-ryder. He said he would not do that again. Slow down, Rose. I’m having
trouble keeping up with you in this fat suit. And, my temporary facial sub is
fading. Take and look. How do I look?” Roxanne hurried to keep up with Rose,
who was excited about following Gimlet’s scent.

It’s a dog thing.

“Let me see. Well yes, your face is slipping. Hide the left
side with a scarf.” Rose grabbed a scarf from a street vendor, using her teeth.
The vendor was getting ready to complain until she saw Rose, or rather a big
portion of Rose’s teeth. To keep her from screaming, Roxanne handed some chits
to the vendor, and then hid her own face with a long purple synth scarf.

“I would be happy if I never had to go to #5. Plus, that one
time I asked Michael about it, he said there were no canines in #5; that’s so
boring.” Rose stopped in front of what looked like a solid wall.

“Roxanne, the scent stops here,” she said.

“Then this is not really a solid wall. Can you detect any
door lines or crevices? There must be an opening device or lever some place.”
Roxanne felt the upper portion of the brick wall, while Rose examined the lower
section with her nose. After several minutes, Rose woofed,

“Here, there is a small line here with a hidden door. I
suspect it opens easily from the inside, but has a hidden hinge device
someplace on the outside. Let me look over there.” Rose nosed her way to
another section of the wall, a portion with some loose bricks.

At first glance it looked like some part of the wall had
loosened, like bricks sometimes do. But upon closer inspection, Rose discovered
a hinge hidden behind one of the loose bricks. While Rose nosed at the hinge,
Roxanne watched for any passersby, or people who just seemed too curious. But
from the perspective of most ordinary #3ers, she just seemed like a frumpy
shopper who’d stopped to let her large black mean looking Doberman take a dump.
Rose complied, only to make things seem less conspicuous. She preferred dirt to
concrete to do her business.

The hinge gave way, and the brick wall opened to a small
passageway leading into a dark tunnel. After they entered, the door slowly shut
behind them on a spring device. Roxanne had to stoop down to get into the
tunnel, and remained hunched as they walked into the main part of the passageway.
She took out her bit-lite, looking around at the concrete walls.

“This looks like one of those old WWII bunkers. I visited
one once just outside of San Fran, on a place called Angel Island. They used
them to watch for the invading Japanese way back in the 1940s. I remember
studying that in history class, so when I got the chance I took a ferry over to
Angel Island during my down-time last year. Next time I’ll bring you along,
Rose. It’s a beautiful hike.”

“Yes I agree, Roxanne. It does look like a WWII bunker. But I
need to talk softly now, because my unmodified voice carries too far in this
tunnel. Someday I wish you’d have my vocals modified so I can whisper, especially
on our next pirate mission.”

“I hope we never have another pirate mission, Rose. I’m only
here to find Gimlet. Unlike Michael, I have no desire to be an away team rebel
killer, or even a rebel, although I did train with them for a year after grad
school; I’m a rig-ryder for life. Do you have a scent on Gimlet yet?”

“Yes, it returned right after we entered the tunnel. Turn right
here. It’s getting stronger,” Rose replied. They followed the scent until they
heard voices. Roxanne shut her bit-lite, and they both hunched down, ready for
a fight. They could hear someone talking.

“You’re gonna get the shit beat out of you for letting that
girl get away. Yac’s a real bastard for obedience. He told you not to go into
that cell. What the hell were you thinking, you dumb shit?” One of the guards
passed very near to them, but luckily they turned in the opposite direction.

“I just wanted to see under that shirt. She’s a real piece
of sugar. I’d love to visit her in a sex shop anytime. She’d go for tops at the
sex auction.” The other guard answered, but they were getting further away, and
it was difficult to hear them. Roxanne knew they were talking about Gimlet.
They had her sis!

Roxanne turned slightly around the edge of the wall to catch
the rest of the conversation. But unfortunately her foot hit some loose concrete,
sending the sounds of crumbling rocks down the tunnel. The guards heard.

“What was that? Did you hear that? Let’s go back and take a
look. It sounds like somebody is back there in the next tunnel.” The two guards
armed their sonics to brain fry mode, and approached the place where Roxanne
and Rose crouched. But just before the two guards reached them, Rose ran out
from her hiding place, wagging her tail, and yelping, doing her best lost pup
imitation, watching Roxanne’s back. One of the guards bent down and patted her
on the head.

“Well, what do we have here? Look here, we got us a lost
dog. How’d you get in here fella?” Obviously they had not checked for a sex
confirmation. Rose, the true “watch your back” expert, just kept up her dumb
lost dog act, and followed the two guards down the hall, her tail wagging in
totally un-Rose fashion. Later, she’d be teased by Roxanne for this one. But
for now, Roxanne silently mouthed, “
Thank you, Rose,
” and remained crouched
behind the wall of the tunnel.

After Rose and the two guards turned the corner, Roxanne stepped
out of her hiding place and followed, leaving enough room so she would not be
detected. If she accidentally made a noise, Rose would yelp or bark loud enough
to muffle it.

The passageway opened after about twenty yards, to a small concrete
room. Roxanne was now sure this was one of those old bunkers left over from
WWII. She’d read about the ones built after Pearl Harbor. This one was large,
brick and concrete, and mostly underground. That could explain why Gimlet had
not used her com tattoo to contact anyone, Roxanne thought. Coms worked in the
underwater low-way tunnel because there were strategically placed signal bits
along the way, so that a rig-ryder could stay in contact with the Inc., and
vice versa…mostly the later. But, here in this tunnel, a com signal would be
impossible to send or receive.

Someone wanted Gimlet hidden!

Roxanne continued to silently follow the guards, but she
could no longer hear their conversation. From time to time, Rose would let out
a yelp or bark for her benefit. So she just followed her co-pilot’s voice until
the tunnel started to grow less dark. Finally, she could hear others talking,
many others, and there was only one of her.

She ducked into a utility closet, deciding to wait it out
until Rose finished her recon and returned. She could hear Rose’s barks in a
distance, but it was not safe to exit and follow her co-pilot, not now that so
many guards were out there walking around.

So Roxanne was just sitting on a bucket, next to a mop, in
the dark, with a fully loaded Glock in her left hand, thinking of Michael
Segev. Rose was right, she thought. They could use him right now. And, that
thought made her pissed off. She was used to not needing anyone. Plus in the
back of her mind, she could not ditch the image of that time ON THE BEACH WITH MICHAEL
SEGEV, NAKED.

                                                           
                         
12

NAKED…GIMLET AND CHAD WERE LYING NAKED ON THE SOFA IN HIS
OFFICE. The Hawaiian shirts and pants lay crumbled on the floor. They still hadn’t
made it out of the office. It had been four hours, and they had made love
fourteen times. There were benefits to being a clone.

“I suppose I should contact Dad,” Gimlet yawned and said,
without much enthusiasm.

She knew they’d have to leave the room and go up top, to a
place where a com signal could be sent and received. Neither of them wanted to
leave; neither wanted to face the reality of Gimlet’s mom and the world bounty
on clone soldiers. Each had their own worries; Gimlet knew her mother would not
accept Chad, and Chad just wanted not to be killed by her mom. At the moment
they were wrapped around each other, like x-rated acrobats.

“I suppose so. Here, put this on. I’ll have to tie you up
again.” Chad grinned. He was thinking of some other form of tying up, and it
made Gimlet smile.

“Stop, get serious; we have to do this, Chad.” Gimlet could
not resist smiling; everything about Chad made her smile.

“I know. But I had other ideas for a more appropriate first
date. Now we’ll have to crawl through the sewer processing tunnels to get to
the top.”

“Well, I’ve had worse first dates,” Gimlet replied with a
laugh.

They slowly got untangled from the sofa, dressed, and then
Chad peeked out the door. After being sure the hall was empty, they both walked
quickly to the sewer portal leading to the sewer city, then on to Lanai, to
contact her Dad, Dorian. Surely the half human/half computer world leader of
the rebels could help them.

At the same time, Dorian was sitting in his message control
room at Donner Pass. He had just finished a strategy session with his alpha.
Michael Segev wanted to proceed, but Dorian wanted more data. It was their
usual stand-off. Dorian was the strategist, Michael the killer. And at present,
they were after a very big target, the CEO of Nutria-blend, Inc.

“Dorian, we’ve got the chance to finish this now. I’ve been
setting this up for 6 months. What more do you need to know? The stuff is
toxic. That should suffice.” Michael spoke in a low terse tone, while standing
inside one of the Tokyo security huts, outside the entrance to the Kabuki-za.
He’d followed the CEO to the theater; it was his best chance for a hit, and
both he and Dorian knew it.

“I calculate only a minimal chance that you are in error,
Michael. I suppose you are correct. I just do not relish my part in this
operation. You know I am weary of violence. Yes well, alright. It is on. Do it.
But when you’ve completed the job, would you stop by and see if Gimlet is safe?
Please do not let her see you. She becomes angry when I watch over her. I
believe she’s switched off her bot-com; most likely she is in one of the party
tunnels beneath the Roppongi or Shibuya.”

“I’ll check… after. On another note, what about the legal? I
think he’s also involved. I could swing by Hong Kong and do a double hit,”
Segev said, after he’d squashed a nano-drone under his boot.

“What makes you think Leo Songtain’s lawyer, Max Peabody is
involved, Michael? I have not detected anything unusual in that regard. Do you
have additional information you wish to share?” Dorian always asked Michael
that question. One never pushed Michael to reveal sources, because he was what,
in older-speak, would be called a free agent; Michael preferred it that way.

“No actual data yet, just a lot of new fuzzy warm stuff
between the Nutria-blend CEO and Max; it could be purely circumstantial. I’ve
got an asset in place,” Michael replied.

“Max rarely does anything by pure circumstance, Michael. Is
he also presently in Tokyo?” Dorian asked. He had switched to a music code, so
Michael responded with his harmonica, using a tiny nano-version of a decoder, a
recent invention of Dorian’s.

“Negative, he’s still in Hong Kong tied up with that clone
soldier purchase thing. Why are you still doing that? I told you it endangers
the rebels, and my missions. Tell Dina to leave the clonies to me. There are
only about one hundred left on the entire planet, and I can take care of them
on contact. Call her off; she just gets in my way.” Michael did not tell Dorian
how he took care of those clonies. It was one reason for his rare forays into bubble-stop
#5. Michael could make anything or anyone disappear into #5.

“I suppose you are correct, Michael. But, I have not been
able to convince Dina of that. You are correct, it is illogical. I have been
unsuccessful in changing her mind. As for the current mission, do what you
must, Michael. Report back when you have completed the mission. Please make it
clean and quick. I want no additional casualties,” Dorian coded to Michael in
music, then offed the bot.

It was quick. The hit was single, and silent. But, death can
never be called clean.

Dorian sighed as he offed the bot-com, and got up to make
himself some hot chocolate, moving his six foot tall, perfect, muscular frame
silently across the code room floor. He was ridiculously beautiful, like all
the clones. But because of all those organo-digitals, he glowed all over, like
a large perfect, glowing white elf, but with normal ears.

“What was that all about?” Dina had just entered the music
code room as Dorian sent his last message to Michael. “It is nothing my lovely
Dina. I am only finishing up some last minute details pertaining to the nutria-blend
mission. Michael Segev confirms the toxicity. He has sent a sample to our lab
for analysis,” Dorian answered.

“Do you know how it works?” Dina asked as she sat down to
take over the message com.

 “We do not know what its effects are yet. But, I believe it
has more to it than simply enhancement of worker efficiency. Michael believes
it pertains to the Inc. long-term robotic replacement paradigm. He believes it
is a plot by the Nutria-blend, Inc. CEO, and Max, to accelerate the replacement
of workers by their robotics assets. That is all we know for now.” Dorian
sipped his hot chocolate.

“So you mean it’s a plan to off them; it will kill the
rig-ryders.” As a rebel alpha, Dina always said those words that Dorian usually
danced around.

 “Yes, I have informed Eldridge and Roxanne not to utilize
it as a nutrient source. They will spread the word to the others. I hope no one
had already been irreversibly damaged.” Dorian walked slowly back to his
control panel chair, cup of hot chocolate in hand, and with one for his wife.
Dina took the cup, sipped her drink, and regarded Dorian with those glowing
amber eyes, the eyes that had made him fall in love with her.

“You’re not telling me the entire truth; there is something
else. I love you so much, Dorian. But, it drives me crazy that I can’t read
your mind. I can read everyone’s mind but yours.” Dina stood behind her
husband, rubbing the back of his pale, glowing neck. She still thought Dorian
was the most beautiful person she’d ever seen, and she would do anything for him…except
give up killing clone soldiers.

“Dina, you know I do not often ask things of you. But, I
must ask this again, for the sake of the rebels, and even for our daughter. In
fact, she has requested it,” Dorian spoke softly, trying to open the
conversation.

“I can’t. I wish I could. I can’t give it up, Dorian. What
do you mean, for Gimlet? What did she tell you?” Dina asked.

“She wants it stopped, Dina. She is ashamed of you, of us.
Please reconsider this. Can we not just control the latest batch of clone
soldiers, and then have the labs examine them? Some of those clone soldiers may
be normal. There is genetic drift, you know. You are possibly killing
innocents. Please consider what this does to our daughter, to our relationship
with her. She knows you may be killing innocent people.” Dorian stopped running
sixteen things at once, turned and looked, with his glowing gold eyes, into
Dina’s. It was important. He rarely stopped running the entire complex to carry
on a single conversation.

“Clones, they are clones, Dorian.” Dina turned her back to
her husband and clenched her fists.

“I am a clone; you married a clone, Dina. And our daughter,
Gimlet is a half clone. I beg you to reconsider. Let us test this batch. If
they are dangerous, then Michael Segev will eliminate them,” Dorian implored.

“When my father was killed by clone soldiers in Kyoto, I
promised him I would finish the job. I promised myself. And you trust Michael
Segev too much. He’s not infallible, you know.” Dina had never gotten along
with Segev; two alphas rarely do.

“Your father did not mean for you to kill innocents. I also
knew your father. Jordan never killed anyone without a cause. You know that.”
Dorian’s pulse was racing. He almost never lost control of his emotions. Anger
was something he found uncomfortable, maybe even dangerous to the facility. He
supposed it was the computer part of him.

He noticed some glowing red lights, flashing a warning sign
on the panels and under his skin, and slowed his thoughts back to normal. The
red flashing ceased.

“I can’t, I…” Dina did not finish her sentence. She turned
her back to her husband and left the music code room quietly. She had learned
to control her reactions, otherwise things got blown up…either by Dorian, or by
Dina herself.

There were other mind readers at the rebel headquarters that
day. Most just stopped to listen to their leader have an internal self-argument,
as she stalked back to her room and slammed the door shut, causing everything
hanging on the walls to fall.

Dorian stood in front of his control vids, calming himself
by sipping hot chocolate, watching the data bits rapidly scan across the 3D
panels, while wondering where his daughter was. He had not told his wife that
their daughter sometimes went off the grid. At first it drove him crazy, not to
know exactly where she was at all times. But, Roxanne had convinced him that
even the daughter of the world rebel leader needed some privacy.

He sighed, put down his cup, and continued to monitor life
at the various rebel outposts all over the planet. But from time to time, he
glanced over at the dedicated signal set to his daughter, should she decide to
fill him in on her latest student party life experiences.

“I suppose I have no need to fear for her safety. She has
most likely decided to partake of the usual extended celebratory rituals
established for all university students during their breaks. It is after all, a
long established and honored custom.”

For Gimlet and Chad, those celebratory university rituals
currently included an introduction to the largest under ocean sewer city in the
world.

“This is quite a school break party, Chad. I love the décor;
you must have decorated for days.” Gimlet followed Chad through the sewer city
below that part of the ocean spanning between Molokai and Lanai.

“Do you like it? I thought of adding some essence of green goo
to match what’s growing on the walls; but you know, decorations aren’t cheap
nowadays.” Chad turned and smiled that melting smile at Gimlet, his eyes
scanning her body from head to toe. She blushed, smiled back, and nodded for
him to continue down the slimy concrete tunnel.

They were about half way to their destination, Lanai. They’d
entered at the first bilge station at Molokai, very near the door into the
underground bunker where she’d been held prisoner. There was some time urgency
because soon the #3ers would know they were missing and suspect Chad had
deserted. They had to get to Chad’s other clone mate Jason, at the R&R regeneration
facility, get him released from the clinic without raising suspicion, bot-com
Dorian, and leave Lanai, all within the next hour. Plus, the exit would be
crawling with real WME security police, the serious kind.

“Is this your first time in a sewer city, Gimlet?” Chad asked
as they walked past bilge station #2. “Well yes, and first time in a sewer city
this big,” she laughed, the sound carrying down the tunnel.

“The sewer systems, or underwater sewer cities, are famous
in this region. They were established about thirty years back, during the
height of the food and water shortage periods,” Chad explained to Gimlet as
they passed the huge bilge stations on either side of the tunnel.

“When was that?” Gimlet asked, careful not to touch one of
the tanks, which was hot from the chemical reactions taking place inside.

“The water shortage happened first, from the global heat. Most
inland cities, the ones not able to have desalination plants, had to recycle
water. The pro factions called it
the closed loop water method
; the cons
called it
toilet to tap drinking water
. Either way, it’s now all the
fashion, and absolutely necessary for worker food supplies,” Chad explained.
He’d obviously been through this region before; he’d even had an official sewer
city tour.

“When did the food manufacturing start?” Gimlet asked. She
noticed the change in smell as they reached bilge station #3, where the food
manufacturing started. It was much more tantalizing.

“The sewer redesign projects followed after the water re-use
projects; of course they used the term,
toilet to table cuisine
. There are
now hundreds of fad diets extolling the virtues of bilge #1 versus bilge #2
diets. Entire vlog channels are devoted to weight loss and anti-aging effects
of special bilge,
toilet to table
diets. Of course, it’s all propaganda
by the Incs. The uppers wouldn’t be caught dead eating bilge. They still eat
the real stuff, and at crazy prices.” Chad walked on across the catwalk running
atop one of the fermentation vats.

The vats were covered, but Gimlet thought they smelled like
baking bread. And, inside that bilge #2 sewer city vat a group of nano bacs
listened carefully to Chad and Gimlet, watched, and took their versions of
mental notes. No, they didn’t speak English, or the required three not dead
languages, they spoke to each other in chemicals. And like the,
Dictyostelium
slime mold, which talk themselves into a group, using something called cyclic
AMP, these had also evolved.