CLONES: The Anthology

by Rysa Walker

  There was only one door at the end of the hall. Robert headed straight for it, opening it without hesitation and stepping inside.

  The room held a large conference table, twelve seats surrounding it, and another twelve making a second outer circle. Twenty-two spots were filled. The second row guaranteed continuity of function. If any one member of the first row were to die, there was always someone waiting in the wings to step in, already up to speed.

  A man with dark hair and a darker complexion walked over to Robert and shook his hand. “Good to see you, Robert. Take a seat. We’re about to begin.”

  Robert returned the man’s handshake with a smile. “Will do.”

  Neither of them looked at Martin. But Martin didn’t need the introduction. He recognized Ron Hubert from the NSA. In fact, Martin recognized most of the men at the table: Cliff Atkins, from the FBI, Colonel Reynaldo Fernandez of the Air Force. Mitch Handler from the Secretary of the Navy’s office, Gerald Jasper from the Department of Defense. He knew one of the other men was an engineering professor from MIT and another was an astrophysicist from Rice. The others he would learn in time.

  Robert took the last remaining seat at the table and Martin sat in the empty chair behind him. On the table, a manila folder with MJ-12 stamped across the front rested in front of each of the men. MJ-12: The Majestic 12.

  A little thrill ran through Martin. All his hard work and he was finally on the cusp of everything he wanted: power. Power that was hidden from the view of the public but which held sway over a war the rest of the country didn’t even know they were fighting. Back in 1947 in response to the Roswell incident, President Harry S. Truman had created the Majestic 12 by executive order. Made up of government leaders, military officials, and scientists, the group was tasked with recovering and investigating alien spacecraft. The group allegedly had been disbanded only a few years after its creation. But like many projects deemed too important to abandon and too controversial to let the public know about, it had moved into the shadows.

  Ron Hubert of the NSA stood up and all the small talk quieted. “Thank you for meeting on such short notice. A situation has developed that we need to address, and the sooner the better.” He nodded to one of the men Martin didn’t recognize. “Dr. Phillips.”

  Dr. Phillips stood, buttoning his suit jacket and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “As you know, alien abductions have been increasing over the last few decades. Beginning with the Hills in 1961, we know our people have been taken, usually for only an hour or two, and submitted to medical examinations before being returned, many without any awareness of what had happened and with only a sense of lost time.”

  Fernandez interrupted. “How do we know what’s happened if they don’t recall it?”

  “They don’t recall the incident immediately,” Dr. Phillips stressed, “but soon the individuals suffer from nightmares, reliving their experience. Many have trouble going about their daily lives and, in the best of cases, seek help. In the worst, they devolve into drugs or occasionally take their own lives.”

  “Aren’t many of the reports false, though?” Atkins from the FBI asked.

  “Some are,” Phillips conceded. “Most of the cases turn out to have reasonable explanations, such as sleep paralysis, which is a temporary condition of being unable to move or speak. But not all cases can be written off so easily. And those latter cases are on the increase. On top of that, we’re seeing a new development.” Phillips took a small plastic container with a stopper on top from his pocket. He handed it to Handler from the DoD, who was sitting next to him. “Now they’re leaving something behind, inside the victims.”

  The men stirred around the table.

  Handler peered into the tube. “What is it?”

  Phillips shook his head. “We don’t know. It’s not a metal found here on earth and it gives off a small amount of radiation, but it’s not dangerous. But as to its purpose, we have no idea.”

  “How many people has this been found in?” Robert asked.

  “Twenty and climbing.”

  Murmurs sounded around the room. But Martin said nothing. He was well acquainted with the United States’ history of UFO sightings and interactions. He’d been read into the re-engineering of crafts at Wright Patterson and the hundreds of sightings by reliable sources, many of them military. But abductions had not been part of his briefing. And the idea of American citizens being used as lab rats did not sit well with him. Not because he had any particular affinity for American citizens but because to him, it sounded like an enemy gathering data.

  Phillips reclaimed his seat and Ron stood back up. “Now we need suggestions. A plan. A counterstrike.”

  Colonel Fernandez frowned. “I’m not seeing how there is one. We can’t possibly secure every citizen and even if we increased the number of F15s across the United States, we’ve never been able to catch one.”

  Martin looked around the table, an idea forming in his mind. He pulled out his notebook and jotted down a note, handing it to Robert.

  “You,” Ron barked. “Stand up.”

  Martin did, looking around the room.

  “Everyone, this is Martin Drummond. Buckley is grooming him as his successor. You have an idea?” Ron asked.

  Martin waved his arm across the table. “Yes. I assume some of these individuals are in the medical or biological sciences?”

  Ron gestured to two of the men Martin hadn’t recognized. “Drs. Schneider and Pruitt from the University of Chicago and Harvard, respectively.”

  Martin nodded. “Gentlemen. It is also my understanding that we have some of these beings in our custody.”

  “Their bodies, yes. We’ve only captured three live specimens and they all died shortly after capture,” Dr. Pruitt said. “And we’ve analyzed them extensively. That angle has dried up.”

  Martin shook his head. “No, I don’t believe that is true. Science is evolving every day, sir. We need to think a little outside the box. After all, these beings are experimenting on our citizens, without consent and without concern.” Martin gave one of his rare smiles. “I believe it’s time we return the favor.”

  II

  Chicago, Illinois

  One Year Later

  Dr. Alice Leander looked out across the audience. Even though it was 1988, the audience still held mostly male scientists. She herself had been only one of two females in her graduating class at the University of Chicago. And now she was stepping out and demonstrating her research on a very controversial topic which would either make her reputation or break it.

  “Clones already exist in our society. Identical twins are natural born clones; each has an identical genetic code within their bodies. Creating a clone, however, remains out of the grasp of science. But, I have developed a method which will make cloning a possibility.”

  The audience grumbled and Alice wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad one. Probably a bad one. But she barreled on nonetheless.

  “In order for cloning to be possible, there are three requirements that must be met: a suitable empty nucleus must be available, the DNA that is to be cloned must be complete, and there must be a host where the modified egg can grow. Until now, the greatest difficulty has been in the first stage: creating a usable nucleus. The methods to date have been too crude, lopping off the necessary spindle proteins.” She smiled. “But I have created a process that will greatly increase the chance of creating a viable nucleus.”

  Alice spent the next fifteen minutes explaining her process. A few scientists broke in to ask her questions, some curiously but more of them derisively. But she had known that was going to happen. Any step forward in a field always resulted in push back.

  Finally, though, she nodded as the last of the questions was answered. “Thank you,” she said, stepping back to a smattering of applause.

  The moderator, Dr. Jeff Chin, stepped to the microphone. “Well, that was certainly different.” A few members of the audience laughed and Alice tried to keep the he
at from her cheeks.

  Jeff smiled at the crowd. “And it also concludes this panel on the future of biological studies. A lunch buffet has been set up in the ballroom. I look forward to seeing you all there.”

  He stepped back and left the podium, brushing by Alice without a glance. A big difference from yesterday when he had asked her out, in spite of the wedding ring on her finger.

  The audience gathered their things and packed up. A few professors stopped by Alice and handed her their cards, asking for her to send them her paper when she completed it. Alice promised to do just that. And a few more offered her their support, taking some of the sting out of some of her less than supportive colleagues.

  She grabbed her stack of papers and began pushing them into her briefcase when an envelope caught her eye. She pulled it out, recognizing her husband’s handwriting. She smiled as she opened it.

  I’m sorry I can’t be there. But I know you are going to be amazing. And I can’t wait to hear all about it. I love you. Now go get them!

  Rick

  Alice smiled, closing the note. Her husband Rick was an Air Force pilot. He’d been sent out on a mission somewhere yesterday at the last minute. He hadn’t told Alice where he was going or when he’d be back and she hadn’t asked. She knew the routine.

  “Dr. Leander?”

  Alice looked up in surprise. A man in a dark suit with blonde hair just beginning to show signs of age and bright blue eyes stood in front of her. She hadn’t heard him approach. “Yes. Can I help you?”

  “That was an impressive presentation.”

  Alice smiled, thinking of some of the less than kind questions that had demonstrated that sexism was still alive and well in the fields of science. “Thank you. I only wish your opinion was shared by most of the audience.”

  “Well, I think they have very little vision. Your ideas on the nucleus are the future.” He paused. “How long off do you think it will be before someone can try your process?”

  “We’re at least ten years away. But when that time rolls around, the world will change.”

  “What if it could change sooner?”

  Alice frowned. “What do you mean?”

  The man handed Alice a card. “I believe I may have a way to speed up that timeline.”

  The card was plain white with black lettering. All that was written on it was the name Robert Buckley and a phone number with an area code she did not recognize. Alice looked back at the man. “Mr. Buckley, the technology for my process is ten years out, at best. Even attempting it at this point—” She cut off, shaking her head. “The costs would be astronomical. No one, not even an extremely well funded private firm, could afford the lab that would be required.”

  “Oh I assure you, that is not a problem for my employers.”

  Alice looked back down at the card and then inspected Mr. Buckley. His hair was recently cut. He was sporting a light tan and his suit was not expensive but decent quality. Obviously he wouldn’t be footing the bill. And yet he had complete confidence.

  Alice met his gaze. “You work for the government.”

  Buckley tipped his head. “Give me a call if you’re interested.” Then he turned and walked away.

  Alice held the card in her hand, tapping it against her lips. A few of her colleagues had been snatched up by the government. There had been rumors of unlimited budgets and technology years ahead of other labs. The downside was you could never publish your findings.

  But you could do the work, Alice mused. She tucked the business card into her briefcase and snapped it shut. All right, Mr. Buckley, let’s see what you have to offer.

  III

  Wright Patterson Air Force Base, Ohio

  Six Months Later

  The military Jeep passed by a group of recruits running in formation. Alice nervously tapped her foot along with their cadence from the passenger seat. The base itself was helping calm her nerves. She’d been around them most of her life. Her father had been Army and her husband was Air Force. She loved seeing the quiet order of a base. But this visit wasn’t about her father or her husband. This visit was about her and a job the government wanted her help with.

  The driver pulled to a stop in front of an inconspicuous brick building. “Here we are, ma’am.”

  The baby-faced solider was barely old enough to vote and Alice would be surprised if he could grow a full beard yet. She smiled at him. “You’re not coming in?”

  “No, ma’am. Only you.”

  She nodded as she stepped out of the Jeep. “Thank you.”

  With a smile, he pulled away. Alice watched him go, scrounging up her courage. She turned around and took a deep breath. This is what you signed up for. Cutting edge. Leading the field.

  But her little speech wasn’t helping the nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach. She sighed. Okay, forget about impressing anybody. Just try not to throw up on any of them.

  Running her thumb over her wedding ring for good luck, she headed for the front door. A soldier stepped outside as she reached it. He nodded, holding the door open for her. “Dr. Leander. I’m Private Butler.”

  “Private,” she said as she stepped past him into the cool lobby. It was a welcome break from the oppressive heat outside. The sweat on her back dried and she resisted the urge to pull her shirt from where it now stuck to her underneath her blazer.

  “This way, ma’am,” With a nod, she followed him down the hall to a door guarded by two soldiers. Neither smiled and both held machine guns. Alice was surprised. She hadn’t seen any other soldiers armed on the base except at the front gate.

  “You’ll need to show your ID,” Butler said.

  “Uh, sure.” Alice hastily pulled it out of her pocket and handed it to the soldier nearest her.

  He inspected it and then her before nodding. “Thank you, Dr. Leander.” He entered a code into the keypad next to him and then placed his hand on the screen. The door next to him slid open.

  Alice’s mouth dropped open. She’d never seen anything like it, outside of the movies. It was something out of a spy film. Butler once again led the way and, shaking herself from her surprise, she followed him through. The door slid shut with a click behind her. Surprise once again filtered through her as she found herself in an elevator.

  “We’re going down to level 12,” Butler said.

  Down? Nervous butterflies flew around her stomach. “Okay,” she said, clasping her now slick palms behind her. She knew when she’d gone through the security clearance that whatever the government had wanted her to work on was going to be important. After an exhaustive process that had taken four months, she had been granted Top Secret clearance. She now had a higher clearance than Rick.

  But she still knew nothing about what she would be working on. All she’d been told was that it required her special skills. But with each floor that dropped them further below the earth, she couldn’t help but wonder what exactly they needed a biologist with a dual background in psychiatry and aerospace medicine for.

  The door popped open and Butler indicated she should head down the hall. “Just me?”

  He nodded. “Yes. They’ll contact me when you need to come back.”

  “Okay.” Alice stepped out of the elevator and the chill caught her by surprise.

  A man stood halfway down the hall in a suit, a man in an Air Force uniform next to him. She recognized Mr. Buckley immediately and, with relief, she recognized the soldier as well: Captain John Forrester, her husband’s best friend.

  “John,” she said in surprise.

  John extended his hand. “Hey, Alice. Sorry I couldn’t tell you I’d be meeting you.”

  “I understand,” she said, although she really didn’t.

  John turned to the man standing next to him. “This is Mr. Robert Buckley.”

  Buckley shook her hand with a wink. “Dr. Leander, I’ve heard good things.”

  “Um, thanks,” she said. Apparently he didn’t want John to know they’d already met.

  “Befor
e we begin, I need to remind you of your contract. Everything you will see, hear, and work on must be kept in the strictest confidence,” John said. “You can speak with no one about this project, except those that have been read in. Is that clear?”

  “Yes.” Alice replied, a slight tremor in her voice.

  “Now, before we bring you in, are you familiar with Wright-Patt’s history?”

  Alice frowned, looking at John, but his face was expressionless. Why on earth was that important? “Well, it was Wright Field back when it was first commandeered by the US government.”

  Buckley smiled like she was a prize student. “True. But most critical for our purposes, Wright-Patt has also been the home for the Foreign Technology Division.” He looked at her expectantly.

  “They’re in charge of the science and technology as it applies to air and space. They allegedly re-engineered Soviet and German technology,” Alice said.

  “Exactly, although they have been in the process of re-engineering more than just that. Any object from the space or air that is not American but is found by us, is brought here. Any,” Buckley emphasized.

  Alice had the feeling she should understand what his emphasis was about, but she simply didn’t. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  John spoke quietly. “All UFOs that the US has intercepted or that have crashed on US soil have been brought here for re-engineering.”

  “Wait, you mean like Roswell? But that’s just—” Her voice dwindled off as the two men looked at her without a drop of humor in their faces. “That really happened?”

  John nodded. “Among others. There have been thousands of sightings beginning in the 1940s until now. And dozens of crashes: Laredo, Texas; Aztec, New Mexico; Creckburgs, Pennsylvania. The list goes on and on.”

  Alice looked between the two of them. “But how have you kept this secret?”

  “Wright-Patt is also the location of Project Blue Book, whose job was to debunk any and all reports of UFO sightings. The public believes what they are told to believe,” Buckley said.

  Alice looked between the two of them, not sure what to believe. She had always believed there was life on other planets. She just wasn’t sure that life had ever made it to this planet. “So you’ve been re-engineering alien technology?”