by Cara Bristol
He pressed forward. “Tell me who you are, who sent you. I can protect you. I promise they’ll never touch you.”
“Y-you can’t p-protect me. They’ll find me, wherever I go.”
“Who will?”
She didn’t answer.
He moved closer. “Listen to me. I can keep you safe. Protecting people is what Aym-Sec does. It’s what I do. Nobody can reach you.” Cyber Operations ventured into war zones, onto dangerous planets, and into enemy territory to rescue people. To keep a woman safe and sound at headquarters was no challenge at all.
Head bowed, she said, “If you have enough money, you can reach anybody.”
He went still. “You mean the O’Sheas?” It wasn’t hard to guess.
Her head shot up, her eyes wide with fear. “I didn’t say that.”
“The O’Sheas threatened you.” He stated it as fact. Most people might have trouble imagining upstanding citizens in the highest social class acting that way, but covert ops dispelled any illusions. Nothing surprised him anymore.
Trust me. Tell me. I can help you. She stirred something in him, and he realized he did want to help her. “What do they have on you? What are you not supposed to tell?”
She shook her head. “Don’t…please.”
He touched her shoulder and met her gaze. “I promise I will keep you safe. Look where you are.”
“I don’t even know where I am.”
“You see?” His mouth quirked in a small smile. “Aym-Sec is one of the most secure facilities in the galaxy, but besides that, I personally will ensure your safety. I pledge my life on it, but I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”
She took a deep breath. “I’m…I’m”—she twisted her hands—“a…a…clone.”
A clone. “Liza’s clone.” The DNA puzzle pieces fit together.
“Yes, I’m…Liza’s clone.”
“Tell me the whole story,” he coaxed.
“Liza was an only child. She was killed on a star safari fourteen and half years ago. Reuben and Georgetta were so grief-stricken, they refused to accept her death. They put her body in a cryo unit, but they weren’t willing to hope for science to provide a way to reanimate her. So, they extracted her DNA.”
The death process occurred slower than most people realized. Not all cells died at the same rate. Some, like stem cells, could live for weeks after an organism expired. “So they took DNA samples…and they cloned you.”
She nodded. “I was supposed to become Liza. I was cloned in a tank at Clo-Ventures. When my body had matured to Liza’s age—twenty-one—I was birthed. Clo-Ventures put me through months of indoctrination to teach me about Liza’s life and then delivered me to the O’Sheas.”
The whole business reminded him of pet owners who replaced one animal with another, except people weren’t interchangeable. “They tried to pass you off as Liza?”
She nodded.
“How could they get away with that? People had to know she had died.”
“They never went public, never reported the death. And with their money…”
“They bought their silence,” he concluded. No wonder he couldn’t find a death record. “Do you have any idea how she died?”
“On the safari...they visited a planet that wasn’t well charted. Liza fell into a gorge that went nearly to the planet’s core. They almost weren’t able to retrieve the body.”
Horrific. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “The O’Sheas told you?”
Beth shook her head. “Oh no, and I didn’t dare ask.” She rubbed her hands together. “Liza’s android valet told me. It traveled with her, had gone with her on the safari. The robo told me, and when the O’Sheas found out, they decommissioned it.”
“So, what happened between you and them?”
“In the beginning—the first few weeks after I’d arrived, they pretended I was Liza. Georgetta and Reuben had me call them Mom and Dad. They called me Lizzie and would talk about all the fun adventures ‘we’ had together in the past. Of course, I had no memory of those events, no emotional association to them. Although I had learned where Liza had gone to school, her interests and hobbies, the names and faces of the people in her life, memorizing historical facts can’t compare to being there when history was created. We had the same DNA, but we had different personalities, behaviors, emotions, reactions.
“Instead of soothing their grief, my presence reminded them of their loss, but they wouldn’t let me go because they feared public ridicule and censure if word got out.”
Probably they feared prosecutorial repercussions. Although they resided off world, the O’Sheas were Terran citizens. It was illegal on Terra to assume another’s identity and/or to employ the use of an AI unit or clone to deceive. The O’Sheas had broken the law.
“Why did you tell me you were Liza’s twin?”
“Terra is a big planet with a huge population. No one was supposed to connect me to Liza, except you recognized me right away. Twins are nature’s clones, right? How else could I explain why I looked so much like her? Why I had the same name? The O’Sheas had set up a problematic situation. They hated me using their daughter’s identity, but they’d covered up her death, and I looked like her and had her name.
“I got them to agree to allow me to leave if I promised to create a new identity and disappear.”
“You stayed with them for more than fourteen years,” he pointed out.
“You’re familiar with the saying, ‘wasn’t born yesterday’?”
He nodded.
“At twenty-two, I had been born yesterday. I wasn’t anywhere close to being ready to live on my own. My body and brain were mature, but I completely lacked any sophistication. I didn’t have the experience of a twenty-two-year-old. Though they detested me, they didn’t dare kick me out. They’re famous. What if I ended up as a pleasure worker or addicted to synthetic stardust? It would have reflected on them. They would be judged for turning their backs on their daughter—or they would be forced to admit they’d cloned her. So, they kept me hidden away on the satellite.”
“I started educating myself and began working on the O’Sheas to release me, by promising I could become somebody new. I applied for jobs—but with Liza’s lack of a degree and work experience, no one would hire me. I’d suggested that I go back to school and finish Liza’s degree, but that would have meant impersonating her, mingling with people who might have known her, and they were dead set against that. So they paid somebody to create credentials. In truth, they wanted me gone even more than I wanted to leave.”
“How did they threaten you?”
“They said if I told anyone they had cloned Liza, or that I was a clone, they would find out and make me very sorry.”
Carter narrowed his eyes. “Did they specifically say they would kill you?”
“Not in those words, but it was implied. There are many ways to get even. They have the money to do anything they want.”
He’d amassed a wealth greater than the O’Sheas, and they were not untouchable—not from a covert force like Cy-Ops. A simple order to his team, and the O’Sheas would vanish. They were lucky he operated on the side of right. He didn’t terminate people without due cause, but the O’Sheas were skating real close to the line.
He’d never met them, but he’d seen Liza’s vids of her parents. Haughty, aloof. Georgetta had had a silver spoon in her mouth and a stick up her ass. But, they hadn’t struck him as malicious. Not then. Grief did not excuse threatening an innocent woman.
“What are you going to do now?” She massaged her temple.
He should swoop in and impress upon the O’Sheas that their treatment of Beth violated human decency—but that would necessitate revealing she’d shared their secret. He could inform the authorities of the falsification of records and let the law deal with them, but that would ensnare Beth. Given their financial means, they’d get what amounted to a slap on the wrist anyway.
Though it pained him, the best way to handle it was do nothing. However, he’d keep a close watch on the O’Sheas. “Your secret is safe with me,” he said.
“Thank you.” She squinted, blinking rapidly.
“Headache?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Do you get them a lot?”
“Sometimes. They never last very long. It’s more like a series of jabs that go away.”
“Does massaging relieve the pain?”
“Not at all, but I feel like it should.”
“How long have you had them?”
“For as long as I can remember. I don’t recall a time when I didn’t have them.” Once she’d awakened in the maturation tank with a headache.
“Let’s do a more comprehensive scan. The medtech did one, but let’s have a specialist take a look at you.” He couldn’t exact justice on the O’Sheas, but he might be able to eliminate the headaches.
Chapter Seven
“Nervous?” Carter asked.
Beth swallowed. “A little.” What if the scan discovered something seriously wrong? What if she had an inoperable brain tumor? However, the uncertainty in general worried her the most. She’d assumed she had the logistics job in the bag and would be on her way to a brand new ordinary life. Instead, she’d been virtually arrested, and now had to rely on the very man who’d taken her into custody.
Strangely, she did trust him. He had vowed to keep her secret, and she believed he would.
If she got a clean bill of health, and he released her, what then? Where would she go? What would she do? If Aym-Sec had figured out her records had been falsified, another employer could, too—and they might turn her over to the police.
Aym-Sec still might.
She winced. Worry and stress seemed to bring on the headaches.
“It’s going to be fine,” Carter said. “I’ll be in the adjacent observation room, watching the entire procedure.”
She couldn’t see, but she heard the doors close, and then the vertical transporter descended, throwing her off-balance. She bumped into Carter. He steadied her with his hand on her arm, and she felt a tingle clear down to her toes. She steeled her spine to prevent herself from leaning into him.
“Sorry about the precautions,” he said.
“It’s all right. I understand.” She touched the visor. She’d had to wear the blinder while being escorted to and from the top secret area of Aym-Sec. If the company put this much emphasis on security, then maybe the O’Sheas couldn’t get to her. Of course, it all depended on Carter keeping her confession to himself. The transporter stopped, the doors opened, and she detected changes in temperature and scent. The air had a different quality; it almost seemed purer, or maybe sanitized?
“This way.” He guided her out.
A little pang of disappointment shot through her when he released her. Get a grip. The arousal his presence stirred in her was new, disconcerting, inappropriate. A clone who’d lived all but the last week on the O’Shea satellite, she’d had no opportunity to acquire any experience with men, but she’d studied up on sex.
The first thing she knew with 100 percent certainty was that Carter wouldn’t be interested in a not-so-cheap knockoff of his former girlfriend, a clone, a woman he’d suspected of some crime. She had too many strikes against her.
“This medical facility is the best in the galaxy.” His gravelly voice, and their footsteps, seemed quieter here. Soundproofing, maybe?
What did they do here? Why did a security firm require an advanced medical facility anyway?
Two days had passed since Morhain and Butler had taken her into custody. She operated under no illusions; she was being detained. What she saw, where she went, who she spoke to were controlled and monitored. She’d spent the night alone in a small dormitory in an isolated wing at Aym-Sec. A cantina and showers were around the corner. Every time she ventured out of her dorm, somebody happened to be in the corridor. It was unobtrusive, but obviously they had her under watch. Her baggage had appeared in her room, and although nothing had been disturbed, she guessed it had been searched. Carter would leave nothing to chance.
He was a powerful man, dangerous. She’d escaped from a gilded prison only to become his detainee. Yet…he didn’t evoke the same trepidation the O’Sheas did. When he would allow her to leave or what would happen to her, she couldn’t guess, but he’d pledged to help her, and she trusted him.
“In here,” he said.
A door whooshed open, she brushed against the frame, and the panel hissed closed.
“You can take the visor off now,” he said.
She removed it and blinked in the bright light. Panels and gadgetry took up two of the white walls. Robotic arms folded into accordions over their control units. Long muzzled barrels resembling weapons were swiveled out of the way. Her gaze focused on a tubular silver pod with a transparent cover.
Her stomach clenched, and she felt the blood drain from her face. Dizzy, she swayed. A small sound escaped her throat.
He steadied her with a hand to her elbow. “What’s wrong?”
She pointed to the pod.
“The body scanner?”
“I-I assumed I’d be sitting in a chair, that the scanner would be handheld. It looks like the maturation pods at Clo-Ventures.”
She had no memories of her embryonic development in the gestation tank, but did recall bouts of consciousness in the maturation pod. “I remember waking up at Clo-Ventures and feeling trapped, feeling smothered, but being unable to get out.”
She’d hammered her fists against the glass until they were bloodied. Then they’d shot her with a sedative that knocked her out but caused nightmares of men with ridged foreheads and deep malevolent eyes peering at her, reaching for her.
“How about if I hold your hand through the procedure?” he asked.
“I’m such a baby…” But, with Carter close, she felt more confident she could get through it. He wouldn’t let anything bad happen. Probably he and Liza had held hands all the time. Couples did that, although she’d never had the opportunity. All the pleasantries of male-female relationships were new. She had yet to experience her first kiss.
Don’t make more of this than it is. He’s being considerate. Not romantic.
A bald man built like a storage locker barreled into the procedure room. “Sorry I’m late,” he addressed Carter. “I got hung up.” He looked at Beth. “I’m Dr. Julius Swain. I’ll be supervising your brain scan today.”
“Pleased to meet you,” she said. He wore medical whites, but she never would have guessed he was a physician. He looked more like an enforcer or a bodyguard. There were a lot of those types around Aym-Sec, she’d noticed.
Carter jutted his chin at a mirror high on one wall. “Instead of watching from the observation deck on the other side, I’m going to stay with her during the procedure.”
“No problem.” Swain nodded. “Do you have any questions?” he asked Beth.
“H-how long will it take?”
He glanced at Carter before answering, and she got the oddest sense a message passed between the two of them. “The overall scan, about fifteen minutes. If we detect an anomaly, the diagnostic could take a little longer.”
“Will it hurt?”
Swain chuckled. “No. It’s like a bioscan, only more comprehensive. In addition to analyzing your electromagnetic output, an ultrasound beam will map out your brain. If there’s something in the tissue that shouldn’t be, we’ll find it.”
That sounded simple enough. But scary.
“Are you ready to begin?”
She took a deep breath. “Yes.”
Carter helped her into the scan tube, and she lay flat on her back. “Put your hand through here.” He pointed out a sleeve. She slipped her arm through it up to the elbow, and he grasped her hand. “All right?” he asked.
She nodded.
“During the scan, you can speak, but try not to
move,” Swain said.
“Okay.”
“I’m going to close the lid now.” The doctor nodded at Carter.
“I’m right here. You’ll be able to see me. I’ll be holding your hand,” Carter said.
“Okay.”
The lid slid over the top of the pod. Her heart rate skyrocketed, but she could see Carter’s rough, smiling face and feel his cool, firm grip. She drew strength from him. Her racing heart began to calm. I can do this. It’s going to be okay. If he believed it, she could believe it, too.
* * * *
Swain’s fingers flew over the control panel, keying in the procedure codes. “We’ll do the EMR first,” he said aloud. A light on the panel lit up, indicating the Electrical Magnetic Resonance analysis was in progress.
The cyborg doctor shot a message direct to Carter’s microprocessor. I reviewed the medtech’s bioscan. Everything appeared normal, which is a very good sign. To be sure, we’ll do a complete workup. After the EMR, I’ll do a deep tissue sonar scan. Between the two tests, if there’s a tumor, an aneurysm, an abscess, subdual hematoma, a traumatic brain injury, any kind of bleeding, any unusual electrical activity, a parasite, or any foreign matter, it will show up like a shuttle runway landing beacon.
“Is the scan going to start soon?” she asked.
“It already has,” Swain said.
Her eyes widened. “I don’t feel anything.”
“Told you,” Swain said.
Could her headaches have been caused by the cloning process? Carter asked. He didn’t feel it violated the spirit of his promise to reveal the information to Swain. Everything discussed at Cy-Ops was confidential, and the doctor needed her full medical history.
She’s a clone? Hmm…there could be residual effects, but we must rule out those other things first.
Carter suspected Beth had suffered a lot. Cloning technology had existed for almost as long as cyberscience, but he’d never considered the toll the creation process might place on the clones themselves. What would it be like to be born in a vat? To come into consciousness in a tank? He couldn’t imagine the psychological impact of such emotional deprivation. And then to have the “parents” who’d directed your creation reject you—and threaten to kill you?
