Gene Drifters: The Clone Soldier Chronicles-Book III (18 page)

The Trans-Pacific has four main tracks, two going each way,
eastbound, and westbound. Plus, there are fully operational and very busy train
tracks running below the rig haul route. Heavier, larger, or less perishable
items, like a load of clone soldiers, are shipped via the trains.

Obviously timing is essential, because at any single moment
over twenty thousand rigs could be on a single section of a track. Roxanne had
to re-track at precisely her allotted time, or not at all. If she did not make
it, she would be fired, period. And, because Morton had approved her as his
sub, he could be fired as well.

“Recon number set and fired,” Rose reported, as she pawed in
twenty commands, simultaneously.

“Hydraulic sub-thrusters and override wheel control?”
Roxanne almost shouted, over the whine of the sonic engine, warming up.

“Check!” Rose barked loudly, while setting the proton
thruster beam to full charge.

“Nitro-pulse ready, and fully amped?”

“Check,” Rose shouted back.

“Rig re-track is ready to initiate. All systems go,” Roxanne
shouted.

“All systems go, affirmative,” Rose replied, sighing with
relief. They almost didn’t make it.

Roxanne reached over and punched the re-track button,
simultaneously with Rose, almost like when a missile is launched. If you have
never seen a massive underwater low-way rig re-track, it is something akin to
watching those old science fiction movies, where a starship locks onto a space
station, or off of one, getting ready to go into warp drive.

“Rear cab passenger, please belt in for take-off,” Roxanne
commanded, over the com.

In the back cab Gimlet belted herself in, and then she did
the same for Chad and Jason, who had to ride in the back cab in full crap-wrap extra-large
envelopes with ventilator tubes attached, so their DNA did not read on the
detectors. A positive DNA for a clone would override all controls to a full
shut-down, followed by a visit from an army of real live tunnel security
guards.

At present, the command center could only read Gimlet, whose
DNA had a prior back cab security pass, due to her Smoot family status. You
could take your family along, as long as they stayed in the back. It was that
way for all the rig-ryders, both up top and under the ocean. The Inc. thought
of it as a savings on family housing allowance.

“How long until we reach #4, Rose; can we request a short
stop there? Do we have enough time?” Roxanne asked as she finished the finals
before full thrust to 300 miles per hour.

“I believe so, Roxanne. I’ll send the request. It will allow
us to drop off your little sister, who is returning from her university off
time. She wishes to visit her adopted dad, Eldridge Smoot at #4.” Rose woofed
out loud to the control panel, which translated her request to the control
tower.

Approval took fifteen seconds. They could drop Gimlet off at
the #4 neutral zone turn-around if they were back on the tracks within ten
minutes; it was plenty of time to drop her and the real and not Chad clonies
off. They’d be safe for inspection in Tokyo, then would re-load and haul ass
back to San Fran in time to pick up their own rig, and return the present one
to Morton. Roxanne sucked a large chunk of caffeine-food and asked,

“Is everyone okay back there? There are canine food balls in
the box, if you’re hungry.” Roxanne had not had time to check if anyone was
injured in the fight. She knew she and Gimlet were covered in bruises, Rose had
a real shiner and a serious piece of missing hair, and that Jason guy had
almost lost his mini-incubator thingie, which would have meant he’d only be
able to regenerate half of his hand.

Gimlet was in the back cab trying to re-program the
mini-incubator to its original settings so that Jason would not end up with
some weird regenerated “not hand” organ sticking from his half hand. The real
Chad was uninjured, which seemed to please the hell out of Gimlet.

And, Roxanne was happy that real Chad did not fall all over
her, and that real Chad and Gimlet seemed crazy about each other. Her little
sis had a boyfriend.

Oh man, was Dina going to be pissed with her daughter’s
partner choice!

Roxanne spent the remaining seven hours of the trip to #4
smiling, and singing along to wave station KNUT,
random numbers rock
.

MICHAEL SEGEV HAD COME TO SAVE HER!

                                                                                    
16

“MICHAEL, I WISH TO THANK YOU FOR SAVING MY DAUGHTER IN #3;
for your part in the successful rescue of both Roxanne and Gimlet.” Dorian was
at Donner Pass, sitting in front of his music message code keyboard. He usually
used the system to contact Michael Segev. It was really the safest way. He
would use music as a code, masking the song as radio wave static. At the other
end, a musical sound would be received and decoded.

Michael was in the sub-basement of an old Tokyo love hotel,
decoding Dorian’s message, and answering by playing a harmonica. To any
intruder, he looked like a homeless tunnel beggar, sitting next to a woman
wearing a full face-covering black burka. The very expensive business suit he’d
worn to retrieve the woman from Leo’s legal counselor, back at Narita, was
neatly folded in a backpack at his feet.

“I am glad they are safe, Dorian. However, you know I cannot
confirm being there. On another note, I have the formula we discussed. The
package has been retrieved. It is half of the indicated code. Please stand by
for transmittal.” Michael sent the toxic nutria-blend formula to Dorian by
playing what sounded like a Sonny Boy Williamson.

“Your message is received Michael. I will send it to the lab
immediately. You have a go-ahead for Max. Good Luck.”

“Luck is for gamblers, Dorian.” The signal terminated.

Someplace in a sub-basement, below a love hotel in Tokyo, a
small bit-lighter clicked on, and a piece of white paper containing a toxic nutria-blend
formula, burned to ashes. Unless someone, in some lab, someplace on the planet
had memorized that formula, only the current batch of 12 bottles of poisoned rig-ryder
nutria-blend remained. And soon, only the name would be changed to protect the
innocent, and damage the guilty.

“I have to get back to #5. Proceed as planned, and then
return to base.” Michael spoke to the burka-covered woman, the one with the piece
of red and white polka dot cloth sticking out from the hem of her robe.

“Affirmative,” she replied. The woman then grabbed what
appeared to be a full case of rig-ryder nutria-blend, stuffed the cans into her
large brown beaded macramé purse, and climbed the stairs to the tunnel
entrance. She walked off through the tunnel to catch the tram to Narita,
hobbling to make herself appear as if she were much older. No one would ever guess
she’d spent some hours in the air, sucking the private parts of Max Peabody, the
chief legal counselor for Leo Songtain.

But, her assignment was not finished. Within the hour,
Rachael Gefen, aka Honeybuns, was inflight on an Independent Domain of Israel
government hoverjet, first, to visit a bank vault in Tokyo, then on her way
home to her kibbutz. The case of toxic nutria-blend would end up at a
Ben-Gurion University lab to be analyzed, slightly modified, and then relabeled
from rig-ryder nutria-blend to CEO-special nutria-blend. That thought made
Rachael Gefen smile for weeks.

Michael Segev watched his fellow spy leave, turned the
opposite direction, climbed the metal stairs to the first floor of the
Lust and
Canine Friendly Cherry Blossom Love Hotel
, and checked in using one of his
many identities. Oddly, or maybe predictably, he chose the black orchid themed
room.

At around the same time Roxanne and Rose pulled Morton’s rig
into a small section of track in the neutral zone leading to bubble-stop #4,
reserved for emergency pee breaks, a fast drop off, or, god forbid, and rapid
U-turn. She set the rig to a five minute idle, unbuckled her wrap-in, coded in
the door security exit, and set the back cab door to open. Gimlet and her two
crap-wrapped companions slipped out of the rig, stepped off the tracks,
unwrapped themselves, and sighed. It looked like they could be in the clear.

“Eldridge is expecting you, but he’s not very happy. I’m
sorry, but be sure to enter by the back door. If two clone soldiers walked in
the front door of the Eldridge Bar, all hell would break loose. He’s not in a
good mood. You have to understand his point of view. He’s been tainted by Dina.
You know all about that. She hates clonies. Anyway, it was good to meet you, Chad
and Jason. Sorry we never got to that eel place for lunch, Gimlet; maybe next
time. Chad, I hope to see you again under more hospitable circumstances.”
Roxanne was politely motor mouthing while the others prepared to enter the
first security gate.

She had to step back into the rig quickly to start her
re-track. Roxanne coded in their pass, so the slime was already oozing over them.
Jason and Chad now looked even more identical, because the cooking had finished
and Jason now had a complete hand. She and Rose stood back out of the way,
waving goodbye, as Gimlet and her two clonies stood ready to get slimed into bubble-stop
#4. Once the slime covered them they could not be heard.

Roxanne held the pink mini-incubator in her left hand, not
sure what she’d do with it once they got to Tokyo. Rose suggested they simply
toss it out the window, at bubble-stop #5, because weird things were always
expected to turn up there anyway.

“Well, they’ll be safe with Eldridge, at least for the time
being.” Rose spoke, watching the ooze encapsulate the three humans. She was
tired, bruised, and ready for a rest in Tokyo. 

“Yes, and we’re lucky. We could be in a prison flash freeze
unit by now. It was Michael who saved us. You do know that, right Rose?”
Roxanne turned to climb back into her rig, which was now flashing with red
lights and speaking in a com voice, informing them that re-track would occur in
thirty seconds.

“I would think so. No one else shoots like that, not even
Dina.” Rose walked with Roxanne to the rig, accepted her assistance onto the
cab ladder, sat in her seat, and buckled up for the trip. The com voice
announced,

“You have fifteen seconds to re-track. Please prepare for
full thrust, and track on to westbound lane two for Tokyo. Have a pleasant and
safe journey.”

“Acknowledged, full thrust initiated, track set
on
,
and ready,” Roxanne responded. This time they were legal. Only an undamaged full
cargo of
Stem-wads
® and a half load of bilge #2 juice remained for
delivery into Tokyo. They only had to make that quick run past #5, toss the
mini-incubator onto the turn-around track, then on to the
Lust and Canine
Friendly Cherry Blossom Love Hotel
for a much needed rest.

(Please note: The choice of hotels is always limited in
Tokyo, as only a few remaining canine-friendly establishments still allow
overnight stays.)

“Do you ever wonder where
he
is?” Rose asked, after
they’d re-tracked and were at full speed again.

“I never ask. Why do you want to know?” Roxanne asked. They
were, of course referring to Michael Segev, Roxanne’s absent, but absolute
heart throb.

“No, just asking. I mean, I wonder sometimes,” Rose said.

“About what?” Roxanne asked, fidgeting with one of the
controls.

“About you and, you know,
him
.” Rose was clearly
getting uncomfortable with the conversation.

“Why? Roxanne asked, continuing to fidget.

“Well, I don’t know. Never mind, it’s none of my business,”
Rose responded.

“Let’s listen to an opera. What would you like to hear,
Rose?’

“How about something by Strauss?”

“Okay.”

They did not talk much for the rest of the trip. Some of it
was the after effects of the battle with the culling patrol, some was the
let-down after all that adrenaline surge, but most was their practiced effort
to not talk about
him
. By ten clicks that evening, after check-off and
off-load of the cargo, delivery of the rig for drone maintenance, log-off of
her sub ride, and a quick check-in with Morton, who was giving a seminar on rig
hydraulics to the interns, Rose and Roxanne finally managed to drag their
exhausted bodies to a hotel.

At level three, on the way to their poodle-themed room (
Well,
it was the only vacant room left
.) they passed by the black orchid themed
room, just as the occupant opened the door to refill his ice bucket from the
dispenser down the hall. Roxanne looked into the occupant’s amber glowing eyes,
then slowly stepped into his room as he stood aside, holding the door for her. The
door shut.

Rose proceeded to the poodle room, doing her best to ignore
the situation, and the rest is history.

What? Did you think I was going to fill you in? In your
wildest dreams, readers.

Back at bubble-stop #4, Gimlet knocked gently, only once, at
the back door of Eldridge Smoot’s house. Eldridge immediately answered, opened
the door, looked both ways to be sure no one was watching, then he hurried his
guests into the house, shut the door, and ushered them to some green vinyl
chairs in his living room.

“I didn’t close the bar tonight, Gimlet. I gotta go back to
work right now. It might look suspicious. You’ll have to make yourselves at
home. Which of you is Chad?” Eldridge looked from right to left at both clones.
They really were identical, in almost every way. But Gimlet knew the
difference. It was in the eyes. Chad looked happy, but Jason was clearly not.
He was obviously very worried about something or someone.

“Eldridge, this is Chad Yac. He’s my, my well, I guess you’d
say boyfriend.” Gimlet stammered. They all spoke softly, because the walls were
too thin. You could hear several rig-ryders in the bar, arguing about a soccer
match. Eldridge got up and tuned the waves to some bird song music to drown out
their conversation.

He came back to his chair, and shook hands with Chad, but
you could tell he had something on his mind; something he wanted to say. Gimlet
had never been in this situation, had never had to introduce someone important
to Eldridge. He did not smile. It would take a while for him to accept that, 1)
Gimlet had a steady, and 2) that he was a clone soldier. Eldridge felt like he
had to play the stern dad role and clone crusader at the same time, and he was
clearly unhappy with either role. Things were uncomfortably quiet until Jason looked
sideways, at the individual who had just entered the room behind Eldridge.

“Oh, I am sorry. This is Irma. She’s new, came with highest
recommendations from a chicken sashimi place in Nagoya.” Gimlet knew he was lying.
But, she was happy for both of them, because the first thing she read from
Eldridge’s mind was affection for Irma, and vice versa. This was a new
development. Irma and Eldridge both blushed, and Irma left to put on a pot of
coffee and take whatever she was making out of the oven. It smelled wonderful,
like real food.

“Your dad was worried about you, young lady. You best not be
running off like that again. He was about to tell your mom. You know what that
would cause. The next time, please just com him within the agreed upon 24 hours.”
Eldridge was serious. Dorian had contacted him every fifteen minutes for the 24
hours prior to finding Gimlet.

“It’s my fault, sir. I was sort of getting in the way. It
won’t happen again,” Chad responded.

“I hope not. And no offense, but you know you can’t stay
here. We got DNA drone sweeps every other day, due here tomorrow in fact.
You’ll have to be out of here before then or they’ll sweep you up in a drone
check. You got a plan?” Eldridge had already asked Dorian what to do with an
errant daughter and two clone soldiers. Options were limited in an underwater
tunnel. Dorian suggested a temporary haven in bubble-stop #5.

“You may suggest they use hover-bikes, at drone down-time
for transit to #5, Eldridge. I will arrange for someone to be there upon their
arrival,” Dorian had informed Eldridge, only a few minutes before Gimlet’s
arrival at his back door. Eldridge would have protested to anyone but Dorian.
He owed him too much. But, stowing your daughter in #5 was a strange plan, to
say the least. Eldridge had to ask for confirmation.

“I think we got some static here, Dorian. I thought for a
minute you said bubble-stop #5.” Eldridge thought he’d imagined it. But Dorian
repeated the message, so #5 it was. He only hoped Dorian knew what he was
doing. Although he had to admit, people did disappear quite nicely into bubble-stop
#5.

So now Eldridge had to get his adopted little girl, and her
blasted clone soldier boyfriend and his look-alike, into the last place in the
world any self-respecting dad would ever want their daughter to be. He hated
when that happened.

“I got some nitro-bikes out back. You’ll be going to #5.
It’s your dad’s idea, so he must know what he’s talking about. You okay with
that, Gimlet?” Eldridge asked.

“What? Are you sure? I mean, wow. Okay, I guess it’s not any
different than a Tokyo party tunnel, but maybe more….interesting.” Gimlet
looked a little uncertain. But really she had no choice at this point. Besides,
her dad would have checked it out; at least she hoped so.

“What’s so weird about #5? I’ve been there. We all hid there
right before we left to negotiate with the pirates. We would have been fine
there permanently if the rest had not decided to try to get back to Deceit
Island. That’s when they were captured, the rest of our family. Three of us got
away to #3, but they got my wife.” Jason was speaking. That was why he was so
unhappy. Everyone was silent for several seconds before he continued,

“In #5, we met a really nice guy who helped us. He said he lives
in #5, when he’s not doing business trips, or something. I’m not sure what his
business is, but his name is Michael Segev. Do you know him?” Chad was speaking
this time.

That name, quite naturally, had a funeral effect in the
living room of Eldridge Smoot’s house. No one knew quite what to say until Irma
walked in carrying a pot of coffee and tray of recomb wheat scones filled with
cheese-food. Jason and Chad each grabbed three, happy not to have to explain
who Michael Segev was. Neither understood the others’ reactions to that name.