Gene Drifters: The Clone Soldier Chronicles-Book III

by Takemoto, D. J.

  “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.

  Yes, my folks, there’s trouble, trouble in Sewer City.

  “This place is a regular city. I had no idea it was like this. It’s huge.” Gimlet was astonished at the place. It ran the entire distance from Molokai to Lanai, and was one enormous tunnel under the ocean, but with a
lleys leading off to all sorts of additional houses and buildings. It was designed to hide those unpleasant things from the rich, like low level worker housing, and well, poor people in general. That way the uppers would not have to deal with sewage or worker issues, something too unpleasant for a rich CEO on vacation to get a new face.

  “The cities grew at the same time as your bubble-stops, Gimlet. The workers are not given a housing allowance here, and as you can imagine, would not be welcomed on Lanai. Only upper management lives on Lanai. Even the domestics and gardeners live down here. There was nowhere else to live. You get the job, you figure out where to live, after.

  “Have you met any of the citizens?” Gimlet asked, after reaching the end of a catwalk.

  “I talked to a few down here over the past couple of weeks, got to know them in case I needed a place to hide with my family. This is one of the few places where the unregulated can live without being traced or traded on the Blacks. It has something to do with the mass of nano bacs. Somehow they interfere with signals from bot-com devices, so people can hide out here. That’s why we have to get up top for you to message your Dad.” Chad finished and helped Gimlet off the catwalk, into another tunnel. He now had to almost shout. The pump noise from the nano bacs was particularly deafening in that region of the tunnel.

  “We’re at bilge station #2; it takes the mushed up sewage, then adds in a cocktail of nano bacs, nanoparticle encapsulated sewage-eating bacteria, used to change the raw sewage into basics, like amino acids, and carbohydrates,” Chad shouted. “The idea came from when they started using designer bacteria to eat oil spills, way back before the pandemics. From here, nutrient separation devices run to clean lines, which finally run to food plants nearer to shore. The essentials are then artificially flavored, pressed into capsules or made into a drink, and fed to legal workers, lower level management, and pets; hence our food balls and nutria-blend,” Chad finished. He’d obviously memorized the tour guide’s lecture.