Last Train To Nowhere

by K. C. Sivils

“You have no idea what you’ve done.”

  "Don't really care. What I see here are humans who have been chopped up. Alive. Vivisection. Which happens to be a capital crime. Clones. No matter what space you live in, that's illegal. So, I have to ask you, do you have any idea what you've done?"

  “Changed the course of humanity,” she sneered.

  I cocked my revolver.

  Her smile vanished.

  “You’ve probably started a war. Do you have any idea how many people will die?”

  I have to hand it to her. She spoke with conviction.

  “It will be worth the price.”

  I hit her hard with the barrel of my revolver. I watched her eyes roll up into her head as she collapsed to the floor, blood trickling from the laceration I’d opened up on her scalp.

  I moved the barrel to the scientist standing next to her, another arrogant looking woman, a bottle blonde.

  “Same question.”

  I gave her a second to look down at her unconscious colleague.

  “They were shipped out yesterday.”

  “Where?”

  “I have no idea,” she replied, looking back up at me. “We were about to finish with these specimens. Harvesting muscles and skin tissue does not take nearly as long. The only difficult task that requires any skill to be performed today was the eyes."

  She joined her more arrogant partner on the floor. The laceration on her scalp was much larger.

  “We don’t know where the organs go. We just do the technical work.”

  I looked at the speaker, a short, nervous looking man. He was bald and possessed a hook nose.

  “What happens to the victims when you’re done?”

  He glanced about nervously hoping someone else would answer.

  "We terminate them. There is no reason to keep the remains alive after the harvesting of the requested organs and tissue is complete.

  “So that’s it.”

  He looked at me, unsure of what to say.

  “I don’t know what you want from me,” he whined.

  “To show a little respect for the humans you just murdered, because that is what each one of you is going to be charged with. First-degree murder, plus accessory to murder, murder for hire, kidnapping, illegal sale of human organs, violation of the Anti-Cloning Treaty are just what I can think of at the moment. You’re going to get the death sentence.”

  I stepped close enough to smell the man’s body odor, a vile mix of his cologne and fear.

  "Before they put the needle in your arm, you're going to spend the rest of your days in an Alliance Supermax on some hell hole of an asteroid."

  He just fainted.

  I couldn’t resist. I kicked him.

  ---

  “Are you sure that is the wisest course of action?”

  “It’s the only course of action Governor. We have to get ahead of this. All of our financial tracks are covered.”

  “I say we just let them double cross us on payment and consider it an investment gone bad,” Xue offered.

  “You don’t seem to realize,” Markeson snarled. “They’ve seen my face. Don’t think this is just my problem. If I go down, we all go down.”

  Markeson let the truth of his threat hang in the air.

  “Do you really think involving this Inspector Sullivan is the best course of action?”

  "He's like a pit bull from Earth. The military called him in on a murder of an SP that took place off base grounds in Brownstown. The dead SP was a clone."

  “How do you know?”

  Sarcasm and irritation were written on Markeson’s face as he answered. “I am a detective.”

  Markeson watched as the two corrupt politicians looked at each other, communicating silently. The Governor made a decision, and the Mayor concurred.

  “Make sure Sullivan never connects any of this to us.”

  "Don't worry. I plan to make sure Sullivan catches the people who started the operation and the parties we dealt with either escape or," he paused ominously, to ensure his partner's understood his drift, "they never have a chance to rat us out."

  ---

  Sarah stood in a corner, looking at the floor. Josephson stood in front of her, making sure she didn’t look around.

  “Ellie wasn’t one of them.”

  She burst into tears yet again and clung to me. Josephson looked away, embarrassed at the normally reserved Sarah's emotional display. Typically, Sarah usually only exhibited glimpses of childlike amusement or anxiety and fear at being hunted or trapped, unable to escape at a second’s notice.

  After a few minutes, Sarah collected herself and let go of me. She wiped her face and pulled her hair back, letting it fall down her back.

  “What do you need for me to do?”

  I motioned for her to follow me. I stopped in front of another steel door. This one was not secured with security locks, having only a simple latch.

  Sarah looked at me and opened the door, stepping inside. I followed quickly, determined to not let her face what was inside alone.

  She looked up at me, her face filled with rage.

  “They’re all clones. They haven’t been birthed yet.”

  I nodded. I figured Sarah knew what she was looking at.

  "Let's get you out of here. Major Kilgore has a place you can rest. It has a window and exterior exit. Two SPs will be posted on guard. Is that okay?"

  Sarah nodded and took my hand, pulling me back toward the entrance to the medical house of horrors. She made it past the butchered bodies but made the mistake of glancing at the monsters responsible.

  She launched herself at the soulless monsters, pummeling the first one she came to with both fists. I let her get it out of her system. Josephson and the two Marines stood next to me and watched as she moved on to another hapless monster. This time the nervous little man with the hook nose.

  I figured enough was enough and pulled her off him. His nose looked better broken.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Cargo handlers took over once the containers cleared Customs. The Captain felt a sense of relief at how easy it had been to pass through Security and Customs. Whoever their employer had paid to grease palms knew what they were doing. He glanced at the man who served as the intermediary between his outfit and their employer. The man didn’t say a word, instead merely glancing in his direction and nodding.

  The Captain turned away and headed over to his waiting men. “I’ll be glad when this job is over,” he told his sergeant who just grunted his agreement. “As soon as the freighters disembark from the station, the contract is finished.”

  “Sir, I know it’s not my place,” the sergeant said, speaking in a respectful, but firm voice, “but the men would just as soon not work for this employer again. It’s not about losing Buck. Heck, the work wasn’t that dangerous. There’s just something not right about this entire job.”

  “I know what you mean,” the mercenary officer replied. “This job has cluster written all over it. I just want to get it done, get paid and go home.”

  ---

  Kilgore had deposited General Savier in the base’s lone interrogation room. I stood watching the woman via the monitor. If Savier was concerned about the events of the past few hours, she didn’t show it outwardly.

  I decided never to play cards with the woman.

  Josephson was busy organizing all the digital evidence he'd collected, and while keeping one eye on Sarah in the room Kilgore had provided. She'd stretched out on the floor and gone right to sleep. I guess this was all too much for her and sleep was a good way to not deal with it.

  The door opened behind me, and Kilgore entered. We stood and watched the woman for a few minutes in silence.

  “How do you want to handle this?”

  "The General ought to have to urinate by now," I said. "That won't be a distraction for her. She impresses me as a tough bird mentally."

  Kilgore nodded. He’d never handled many interrogations so we’d play this anyway I wanted
.

  “Has she been arrested formally yet?”

  “No. I suppose I need to read the General her rights under the Military Code of Justice,” Kilgore mumbled. “Not that she deserves it after what I saw in that lab.”

  “Don’t,” I told him. “Just sit and watch if you don’t mind Major. Look angry and mean like any good Marine would.”

  We entered the room and sat down across from the table. As per standard procedure, the General was handcuffed to the table. Her legs bound to a steel chair efastened to the floor and designed to be uncomfortable.

  I didn’t say a word. Just sat and stared at the officer who’d supervised this abomination of a program. Most people can't handle extended periods of silence in situations like this. Often they'll start talking just to fill the void. Savier didn't have a problem just sitting there.

  “I have a few questions,” I told her.

  She smiled. “I haven’t been read my rights, as is required by military law. So I won't be answering any questions until I have counsel and I have my rights read to me."

  “You aren’t getting either,” I told her.

  To the General’s credit, her smile didn’t slip at all.

  "If you leave this facility, it's straight to a particular black site on a rock in the asteroid belt on the edge of this system. If you think Beta Prime’s cold, this place makes our lovely planet look like a tropical paradise.”

  “This is getting old,” Savier said. “You have no idea who you’re tangling with. Release me.”

  I leaned back in my chair, putting my boots up on the table. I stared at the general for a few minutes.

  “Then again, depending on my mood, you could be arrested and made to stand trial for murder and a wide range of other crimes right here in Alliance Court. It would make great media. The networks in Capital City would make a small fortune broadcasting the trial.”

  That got her attention.

  “You don’t want to do that.”

  “Actually, I do.” I gave her my best nasty look. “The military screwed me over years ago. I’d love nothing better than to screw the military back.”

  “I had nothing to do with whatever happened to you,” Savier protested.

  “You’re dead either way General. Cloning is a capital offense. You didn’t just clone people. You butchered them. The Confederation and the Caliphate both will see this as the Alliance military trying to build up its forces in secret. If we don’t hang you out to dry, it will probably mean war.”

  “You have no idea what is going on Inspector,” the General snarled. I was getting on her nerves.

  "Explain it to me then. Make it nice and clear, so simpleton's like the Major and I can understand."

  Savier looked away. I could see the wheels turning as she worked through every scenario she could think of to escape the situation she found herself in. I sat and didn’t say anything. If she needed time to decide to talk, I’d give it to her.

  “What do you want to know? If I tell you something of value, I want the needle off the table.”

  I ignored her last request.

  “Who’s behind this? The Army? The Navy?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  "Well, what can you tell me?"

  “Ask something else.”

  I thought for a bit. Savier didn't say anything, giving me time to think.

  “How many planets have facilities like this one?”

  “All I’ll say is this is the only facility on Beta Prime.”

  “So, there’s more than one of these nightmare shops.”

  The General didn’t react one way or another.

  “In what we believe is an unrelated matter, during a police investigation, it was necessary to use deadly force on some hired muscle, a hit man we believe.”

  The woman just shrugged. The information meant nothing to her.

  “The individual was a clone.”

  Her face didn’t move. It was the eyes that gave her away.

  “This is not the first clone wandering around Beta Prime, particularly Capital City, that I’ve come across in my duties. Anything you can tell us that would shed a little light on how military grade clones can be found wandering around in the general civilian population? Oh, and then there is the small matter of the dead SP here at your base, which I am certain you knew was a clone."

  “I have nothing to say.”

  “Okay, last question then. Since my investigation of the dead SP started, six standard freight containers have left this facility by rail transport. I know for a fact three of those were hijacked and I’m pretty certain all six were. Is there anything you have to say about that?”

  Torture probably wouldn’t have broken General Savier. That simple statement did.

  “You can’t let those containers get off Beta Prime. If they fall into the wrong hands, it will mean war. War like nobody has ever seen before.”

  “Who has them?”

  She shook her head in fear. Her olive skin had turned pale, making her jet-black hair look even darker.

  “I don’t know their name. All I know is it’s a group of elitists who believe they are better than anyone else. It’s like a cult.”

  “I’m not following you.”

  “They’re not part of the Alliance. They’re not Confeds or fanatics from the Caliphate. They operate in all three.”

  I laughed at Savier. “A shadow government in all three Intergalactic Empires? You think I’m going to buy that? This interview is over.”

  Kilgore and I both stood up to leave.

  “This group is why we started up the cloning operation again.”

  I stopped. Seemed like the General wanted to talk now.

  “Why the chop shop?”

  “It’s an expensive program to run. So we fund it off the books.”

  “Why now? Why risk war developing banned technology?”

  “Because we’ll need cannon fodder for the next war,” she said in a whisper. “You have no idea what Military Intelligence has found out about this group.”

  “For the last time, why have I found clones in my city?”

  "We let them go sometimes. We have to evaluate them. How the genetic modifications work. Do the clones adapt to normal society effectively? It's all research."

  I felt sick to my stomach. My government was using its citizens as guinea pigs without their knowledge or consent. Clones who had no control over their own life and civilians who were ignorant of the potential danger they were in.

  I motioned to Kilgore to step outside.

  “I need a break,” I told him. “She’s tough. Whoever this group is, Savier is more scared of them than me taking a hammer to her bones. This is going to take awhile.”

  He rubbed his temples. It had been a long day for him.

  "You did good today Major. That was a good op you planned. All of your personnel came through, and only bad guys died."

  Major Kilgore smiled at me. He knew those words weren’t easy for me to say.

  “Let’s get something to eat. I have to keep a lid on this until I can figure out which brass can be trusted with this.”

  We had just about made it to the end of the corridor when a shot rang out. I pulled my .50 cal. as we sprinted back to the interrogation room. A second shot rang out.

  I yanked on the handle to the door of the interrogation room. It was locked. I clenched my left fist and slammed it repeatedly into the door. On the sixth blow, the plastisteel cracked from the force of my hardened steel fist. I leaned back and kicked the door in.

  The Major pushed past me, and I followed. We both entered with weapons ready.

  Lying dead on the floor was an SP. She’d put the barrel of her service weapon in her mouth and taken her own life. Lying face down on the table in a pool of blood was General Savier. Her head was mostly gone as a result of the impact of the projectile at such close range.

  I looked at Kilgore in disgust. It wasn’t his fault. The real SP had probably been dead for some time, we
eks or months. That’s the trouble with clones. They look like and can pass for the person they’re a copy of. This SP had fooled all the biometric security checks for some time.

  “You had no way of knowing,” I told him. I reached for my comm. I told Bones to be on the next flight to Brownstown.

  ---

  One of the advantages of being the Chief of Detectives was being able to find out what his Inspectors and Sergeants were up to. Or at least what they were supposed to be up to without arousing any suspicion as to why he wanted to know.

  “Brownstown? Again? Inspector Sullivan better be close to finishing that case with all the taxpayer’s money he’s spending traveling,” Markeson complained. Not that he ever worried about taxpayer money himself. He just couldn’t let the other detectives spend what was in the budget.

  It left less for him.

  He thought for a moment. Might as well get this started he decided.

  “Tell Chief O’Brian I’m headed to Brownstown. We’re going to get this dead SP matter resolved.”

  The gray headed desk Sergeant nodded. She had no use for the pretty boy Chief of Detectives. As far as she was concerned, he could set up shop and run the planet’s detectives from Brownstown.

  Markeson pulled out his comm and checked the flight schedule. If he hurried, he could catch the last scheduled flight to the mining town. Without a word, he left the precinct.

  He didn’t hear the desk Sergeant mumble as he left.

  “Don’t let the door hit you on the butt on the way out Captain Markeson.”

  ---

  He felt less tense with the containers stored in Customs. The Colonel had arrived safely in Capital City and would be at the terminal soon. Once she and the cargo were lifted up to the space station and loaded on the smuggler's ships, he would feel better. He'd feel even better when all the ships had departed for their destinations.

  The Colonel had been promised a promotion along with a new identity. The Sergeant wished it hadn’t had to happen this way, but he didn’t know how else things could have played out.

  He loved his Colonel, almost as much as he loved the ideas behind the cause. General Savier’s promotion had been most unfortunate. If the Colonel had been promoted, as she so justly deserved, the operation would have been so much easier. He could have stayed in the Alliance Army and controlled things from the base in Brownstown.