Gene Drifters: The Clone Soldier Chronicles-Book III

by Takemoto, D. J.

  “So that must be the main city, up ahead of us.” Gimlet pointed to a metropolis, complete with full lighting, heat, a water supply, and some functional but not very elegant looking apartment complexes. “Where’s the high rent district?” Gimlet joked.

  “It’s the beauty of the place. Well okay, that’s definitely a figure of speech. There is no rent here. Plus food, heat, light, and water are free. They siphon it all off from the recycle tanks, enough to sustain themselves. It’s all free. They do have a sort of governing council, otherwise every unregulated on the planet would be clamoring to live in one of these sewer cities.”

  “You’re joking, right? I mean this is not exactly a vacation paradise, Chad. Who are the unregulated?” Gimlet asked.

  “Lovely folks, like me.” Chad smiled, but was not joking. The cities hid many clones, the poor, referred to as welfs from the old welfare terminology, escaped prisoners, and even a few mutants. The rest, the ones with those problems, well they all congregated at bubble-stop #5, down in the lowers levels.

  “So, they just drink the stuff right from the bilge? I mean that’s taking toilet to table to the limit, don’t you think?” Gimlet asked.

  “You eat what you have to, Gimlet. Not everyone gets to grow up in a rebel city, in a safe place with real food. Some of us just get by,” Chad replied, while entering the lock into bilge station #4.

  “You forget I lived in the back of a rig for the first five years of my life, eating whatever we could get at the up top rest stops. I grew up on food balls and the occasional snake sushi; but, only if Eldridge could sneak up top on a decently cool night to hunt for snakes. But, I get your point. I see the end portal ahead. Where does it let out?” Gimlet asked Chad as they continued to walk on the narrow catwalks connecting each bilge station.

  “It’s in an isolated region, but near to the Lanai Inc. Bilge #3 Food-Ball Processing Plant. We have to be careful. The place is heavily guarded against food terrorists. It will be swarming with official security guards, the kind with those sting suits. Here, take this gun. Let’s go.” Chad led Gimlet up a metal grill type ladder to a small platform, near a locked door. He had a key, a gift from one of his new sewer city buddies. Chad unlocked the door, and opened it slightly, peaking out to determine the locations of any guards. He held a sonic set on stun. Gimlet checked hers, a handgun, fully loaded.

  “It looks safe. Let’s go, but hurry. We have to get across that open area without being spotted. Sewer citizens aren’t allowed exit into Lanai. They’ll stun us and we’ll wake up at a sex slave auction. Well, you will; I’ll end up dead,” Chad whispered as he crept out the exit portal.

  They walked slowly, nonchalantly, to the gate into Lanai proper, trying for the lost tourist look. It was night, but the place was lit up like a party tunnel. Luckily, the guards were all facing away, admiring the fireworks display, a nightly entertainment provided for the recuperating CEOs sitting on their deck chairs outside the R&R facility, probably all drinking versions of Green Weenies.

  “Just what exactly do they do here, Chad?” Gimlet asked.

  “What, you mean right here or on the island?” Chad asked.

  “I mean at the R&R over there. You sound like Dad, by the way. He has that same literal speak. I wonder if all clones do that. You’re not half computer are you?” Gimlet punched Chad lightly in the arm.

  “I wish. I’d love to have your dad’s mental capacity. Sorry, the intelligence is average. I have other special abilities.” Chad smiled at Gimlet.

  “I don’t need telling what those are. The past several hours with you in your office sort of demonstrated,” Gimlet responded.

  “Only sort of?” Chad almost added something else, but stopped talking and signaled for quiet. A guard had looked their way; had noticed something nearby. It was a dog, a large black Doberman, who strangely looked exactly like Rose.

  “Is that who I think it is?” Gimlet was astonished. “What is Rose doing here on Lanai? Has Roxanne pulled summer sub haul duty on Lanai? She almost never gets to go to Lanai. This is Morton’s rig haul route” Gimlet whispered.

  “What do you mean, who? It’s a dog. And, it looks like a mean one,” Chad whispered from their hiding place behind a barrel of bilge juice.

  “No Chad, that’s Rose. It’s Roxanne’s co-pilot. I know she smells us. Where is Roxanne? Why is Rose acting normal dog?” Gimlet made a high-pitched sound, and Chad covered his ears; clearly his specials extended to dog decibel-level hearing.

  “Stop that, wow, I never knew I had that ability. Look now the dog, I mean Rose has spotted us. You better be right. Otherwise I’m eaten; guard dogs smell clones. They eat us.” Chad pointed his sonic at Rose, as she sauntered over to them, tail wagging in a really rather embarrassing fashion. She was in disguise.

  “Rose, over here; what are you doing here? Where’s Roxanne?” Gimlet spoke in Maori to Rose, who answered in her low growly mumble.

  “What do you mean? We came looking for you. Joster told us you had gone missing in one of the Tokyo party tunnels. We pulled a relief sub haul for Morton, figured someone had kidnapped you for ransom, or for a Roxanne trade. You know how Leo Songtain is always after her?” Rose spoke quickly. She only had a few minutes before the guards would notice her.

  “Why did you think I’d be here?” Gimlet asked, in a whisper.

  “We figured it was the pirates from #3 because they’ve been tailing our rig lately. They even tried to attack the last time. But this time they left us alone; it was like they were hiding something, or someone. We figured that “the someone” was you.” Rose glanced over at the guards. The fireworks were wrapping up with a huge display of orange letters spelling out WME. Rose continued.

  “I had to eat some pirate meat to get rid of them the last time they tried to highjack our rig. They were clones. And by the way, what the devil are you doing here on Lanai with a clone soldier.” Rose glanced over at Chad, her teeth showing. It was a stand-off. Rose was faster, but would take a full sonic hit before she could incapacitate Chad.

  “Rose, this is Chad. He’s my… well he’s my …” Gimlet stammered.

  “Boyfriend will do. Glad to meet you, Rose. Although I have no idea what the two of you have been talking about. Sorry, I don’t speak dog or whatever you were speaking, Gimlet,” Chad extended a hand and shook Rose’s paw.

  “How can I help you two?” Rose asked.

  “We are kind of on a time line here, Rose. We have to message Dorian and get off the island before we are missed. I was hoping we could hitch a ride on a rig, or even ask Dorian for fake IDs and take a hover,” Chad whispered quickly.

  “That’s too unsafe, Chad. A rig hitch would be better, less of a security risk to the rebels,” Rose replied, looking over at the guards.

  “Can you give us a ride out of here in your rig, Rose?” Gimlet asked, while also checking to be sure the guards were still involved in watching the final fireworks display.

  “Well, there’s a tiny problem. See, Roxanne has been captured by those pirates,” Rose replied. “I’ve been undercover, acting normal dog, until I could scout out an escape plan or get help. I’m not sure how she got caught, but we’ve got to get her out first, before we can take the rig. Got any ideas?” Rose answered in Dober-speak.

  “I do, but first I’ve got to contact Dad.” Gimlet crept behind one of the signal towers and pressed her bot-com tattoo in sequence. Rose and Chad remained hidden just inside the bilge portal. Her tattoo glowed slightly, and for two seconds, signaling acceptance of her DNA type as ID. At rebel headquarters, Dorian immediately responded.

  “Gimlet, I was concerned of your absence. However, you will be relieved I did not inform your mother. I know we have agreed to your need for privacy. However, I had thought we decided upon a 24 hour absence of notification. It has now been almost 48 hours. Am I to assume you wish to renegotiate the length of untracked privacy time? I would be happy to do so. However, I do need a set time. You know I have been worried.” Dorian sighed.<
br />
  He was so relieved she was not in danger. He had almost been ready to inform Dina, who would have taken off, in full fight mode, blowing things up along the way, until she found her daughter. It got embarrassing for Gimlet, sometimes.

  “Dad, I have something to tell you. And I need you to listen until I’m finished. Please don’t say anything until I’m finished. I HAVE A BOYFRIEND, A SERIOUS BOYFRIEND.”

  13

  “BOYFRIEND…YOU THINK THAT”S WHY I’M GUARDING YOU, YOU UGLY SHAG?” The guards all laughed. They were gathered around Roxanne, who was shackled to a bed in the same cell that had held Gimlet several hours prior. She’d forgotten she had that temporary facial transplant, and had tried flirting her way out of the situation; she looked twenty years older, and very plain, to be kind. Plus, she still wore the fat suit, so the soldiers had not even bothered to touch her.

  Use of charm was not an escape option.

  “Chad’s going to be pissed about this. What do we do with her? She’d never sell on the slave market. God, she’s ugly. Looks like her face went through a bad flash freeze. Where is the boss anyway; anyone seen him lately?” The biggest guard was speaking, while wiping his greasy mouth on his shirt. He’d been the one who’d found Roxanne hiding in the broom closet, right after they found that dog. He figured it was her dog; nice dog, very friendly. He wondered where it had run off to. They’d find it eventually; there was no way a dog could get out of the bunker.

  “Chad’s probably humping that little sugar piece we kidnapped for him. I mean why not? She’ll still bring a ransom for a Roxanne Smoot trade to Leo Songtain, so why not enjoy the merchandize first. Then it’s, hello Leo Songtain; here’s your little lady for a billion trades in R&R stock.” This time the weasel-faced guy was speaking. He had his face very close to Roxanne’s, examining her features, especially the eyes. It was lucky she’d worn pigmented dye patches over them. They were now a dirty dark brown, almost black. Otherwise they’d recognize her; hard to disguise one blue eye and a green one.

  Roxanne didn’t move. She was afraid the guard saw her facial overlays, or that the temporary was already starting to melt. It should start in about twenty more minutes. Then she’d look like a melted wax mannequin until she turned back into Roxanne. If that happened, and she was still their captive, they would give her to Leo directly for the R&R stocks and maybe just kill Gimlet.

  She guessed their prisoner was Gimlet. Gimlet was in danger. Where was Gimlet? And where the hell was Rose? Had she gone for help? Rose had a bot-com tattoo; if she could get back to the surface, Rose could bot-com for help, and contact Dorian or maybe Michael Segev. Maybe Michael would show up.

  Well, that thought brought a smile to Roxanne’s melting face. It was not the remembering great sex with Michael smile; it was the one she had when remembering how Michael dealt with his enemies.

  “What you smiling at, ugly face? You want a fuck? Huh, not unless I was much more drunk, or you had a bag over your head. Let’s go find Chad.” The head guard pointed to the other and they left, locking the door behind them. They left the skinny guy behind to guard her. He re-locked the two doors and sat outside, reading a book on vacation deals in Lanai. It was all they ever had to read down in the bunker. After several minutes he walked over to the small refrigerator and took out two bottles of nutria-blend, the spam- and eggs-flavored variety.

  Roxanne sat for an entire minute before she made a move. She had to think. They’d taken her boots, so she had no way to pick the shackle locks or door. She couldn’t com Dorian or Michael because the place was somehow sealed from receiving a signal. She had no idea where Rose was, plus, if Rose came to her call, she’d give up her cover.

  She did manage to palm her timer. It was official nighttime, but her rig haul down-time did not end until two more hours. At that time, if she did not clock back in the Inc. would send out a drone recon for her. But, she was not sure if they could infiltrate this place. Okay yes, Inc. drones went everywhere. But that would be a terrible last resort, for her and these idiot pirates, especially if the Inc. sent those stinging kind.

  “I brought you some nutria-blend for dinner.” It was the skinny guard. He’d unlocked the door and was carrying a mug of greenish liquid that smelled like pretend spam and eggs.

  “I don’t drink that stuff. You should know it’s been poisoned.” Roxanne had no idea why she’d said that. She had only told her fellow rig-ryders the nutria-blend was toxic. Anyway, maybe there’s was not. The rebels had not been able to infiltrate the plant yet. Even Michael Segev hadn’t been able to. It was too closely guarded. No one knew what the CEO and Max were up to; or even if all the nutria-blend was toxic.

  “And how would you know that? Are you some spy or something?” The skinny guard looked skeptical, but he put his mug of official Inc Bubble-stop #3 Nutria-blend down carefully.

  “I’m not sure if it’s all toxic. I got word from a rebel spy, a guy I met in one of the party tunnels. I overheard him talking,” Roxanne answered, while checking her escape options.

  “What is an ugly face thing like you doing in a party tunnel?” skinny guy asked, his Adam’s apple wiggling in his neck as he spoke.

  “I do clean up, not the sex trade; not pretty. I hear lots of things though. Word in the tunnels says it’s been poisoned by one of the Incs. They say it’s part of something called the worker efficiency protocol or something stupid sounding. It’s supposed to make you work real fast, but it burns out your heart, or maybe brain or something. Anyway, I stopped drinking it; I eat my dog’s food balls. I figure they may kill off the workers, but the CEOs love dogs, much more than people. They’d never poison a dog.”

  Roxanne inched closer to the guard as she spoke, planning to wrap her long legs around the guy’s neck until he passed out. He had the door and shackle keys around his neck.

  “You eat dog food balls? Yuck, did it make you ugly? Sorry, I got no cause to insult you. I’m not so pretty myself.” The guy was actually trying to flirt with her! Roxanne smiled at him, doing her best to look like a hopeful, often passed-up female.

  “You’re not so bad yourself, you know. I sorta like your type, not all big with too much muscle, nice and compact. Bet you got runner type muscles,” Roxanne said, using one of those southern North American accents she’d learned during her summers in the rebel training camp.

  “Yup, I run every day. See?” The guard came close enough, pulling up his shirt to show a spindly chest covered with a tattoo of Betty Boop.

  “Wow, where’d you get that tattoo? I’ve been looking for that tattoo pattern all over. Do they do tattoos outside the party tunnels?” Roxanne asked, as she inched closer to the guard.

  “Sure, we got a great place right here in #3. We don’t get out much though. I was born right here in #3; I never been to the Roppongi tunnels. What are they like?” he asked.

  “Well come closer and I’ll show you one of my special tattoos; it’s the one I got that last time in the party tunnels. Maybe you’ll even like where I got it.” Roxanne glanced at her butt, intimating that she had a tattoo to show him in a place he might enjoy examining, personally. He smiled back at her; bless his lecherous little pea brain.

  As the guard inched closer, Roxanne wrapped her legs around him slowly, sensuously. She had to get a full grip before she made any quick moves. He liked it; smiled like he thought she was in to him. Then she snapped like a rattle snake, tightening her legs around the guy’s midsection, enough to knock the breath out of him. He was surprised, fought like crazy; he tried to reach for her eyes. And just before he passed out, he looked closely into her face, eyes wide, filled with wonder…then she felt the bulge under his pants.

  “Your face is melting. Oh my god, you’re her! You’re so beautiful! Oh my god, I died and went to heaven. You’ve got eyes to die for.” The skinny guy passed out with a smile on his face and a big wet spot in the crease of his pants.

  “Well, that’s a good way to pass out, I guess,” Roxanne mumbled, as she did a f
eel-up of his body, searching for the keys.

  Of course, they were in his front pocket, next to that wet spot. She pulled the mass of gooey wet keys from his pocket, wiped them on his shirt, unlocked her shackles, and did up the skinny guard, careful to use one of his socks as a gag. Then, she took his weapons and jacket. It was a little big, but not too unbelievable. She’d pass as a guard from the back, at a distance.

  “Sorry little guy, sleep tight, and dream of your own special heaven.” She kissed Mr. Skinny on the cheek, unlocked the door to her cell, and peeked out into the hallway.

  It was empty.

  Roxanne slid out the door, grabbing her boots from the guard station, as she crept down the hall and turned the corner. She could hear voices, people approaching from the other corridor. She opened a random door to someone’s office, stepped inside, and locked the door. She turned, and that’s when she noticed Gimlet’s clothes, folded neatly on a chair, next to the sofa. Gimlet had been here, and she’d been stripped naked, maybe raped. Roxanne was going to have Rose eat the guy’s face. But for now, someone was approaching her hiding place.

  “The dog got outside, you morons; you want a pet, it stays inside. Now get back to your stations. I got her right here with me, just had to take her to the toilet. And, no you cannot guard her. You lost her the last time, dumb ass. I guard her until we do the trade with Leo.

  “Yes sir, Mr. Yac. Should I contact him?” the head guard asked.

  “He’s already been contacted; will trade direct, Gimlet for Roxanne for R&R stocks. You’ll get what you want, as long as you don’t screw up again. I’ll find Roxanne Smoot. And, I’ll take this stupid dog with me.” It was Chad Yac. He was dragging a bound and gagged Gimlet down the hall, closely followed by a trotting, happy, drooling black Doberman.