Gene Drifters: The Clone Soldier Chronicles-Book III

by Takemoto, D. J.

  “There she is, sir. We have a mark on her. She’s running towards the park, we’ve got a lock on her position. It looks like she’s out for a walk in the park, sir,” the head of the pursuing team spoke into his com to the head of security following Rose on his vids. Dorian hacked it, of course. And Rose had detached her tracking collar; she had left it in a snake hole back in the center of the park. Dorian made the tracking collar appear to be moving from time to time.

  “Keep your distance. We can’t harm the mongrel, on Mr. Songtain’s orders. It’s his pet, just stay back, and watch it. She’s got those teeth. Don’t scare her, just watch. Maintain at twenty feet. You got that?”

  “Yes, sir, will do.” The pursuit team was relieved. No one wanted to get facial regen, even at the Lanai R&R.

  “Rose, I’ve altered the course on your collar. Do you still have the formula?” Dorian asked, as he watched the entire scene from his control room at Donner Pass.

  “Yes whoooofhhwhhwh!” Rose managed to muster a mumble only because she’d practiced talking out of the side of her mouth. Her jaws were clamped on the paper with the Stem-wads® formula. She’d removed it when her collar released and fell off after Dorian accessed its locking code. It was her idea to leave the collar in the snake hole.

  “Good, now proceed to the tunnel, and at midsection, just below Hong Kong Trail 4 you will find a small tunnel exit portal. Take it. Contact me when you get there, Dorian out.” Rose took off at a healthy dog sprint, glad she’d done those extra runs on the treadmill each morning. They always kept it in the back cab of the rig so she and Roxanne could keep in shape on those long hauls. Dorian offed the bot, but kept the vid of Rose to on, in case an emergency arose. His main concern was Roxanne. SHE WOULD BE DANCING A DANGEROUS TANGO WITH LEO AND HIS SECURITY TEAM.

  22

  LEO AND ROXANNE WERE IN FACT DANCING A TANGO; no, I mean really dancing a Tango.

  She couldn’t think of what else to do with him. His eyes just kept darting to the bedroom, and Roxanne could not remember if she’d put everything back in order in that safe after her Stem-wads® formula heist.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to see what that gold key will open, Roxanne? I have lots of beautiful things inside my safe room, really pretty jewelry, diamonds, even rubies, one’s that will match your hair, Oh, the hair!” Roxanne thought he’d faint again. She’d had a hard time explaining why she’d drugged him. He had finally accepted that she wanted to be sure Rose got away, and then just take things slow.

  “After all Leo, we haven’t seen each other since grad school. You remember the lacrosse game?” They’d spent the past hour elaborately going over that one time she’d patted him on the head after a lacrosse game. The remainder was spent with Roxanne trying to talk Leo out of getting her some jewelry from the safe in his bedroom.

  “Leo, you know I don’t want any of your things. Really, it was Rose I was concerned about. As long as she’s safe and makes it back home, I’m happy. (Especially with that formula)” Roxanne was thinking. She was in constant audio-bot with Dorian, listening in to the com conversation between Rose and Dorian about a rendezvous in Aberdeen Tunnel. Rose had to make it to the rig dock at Aberdeen Harbor in time to catch a submersible back to Tokyo, and Morton’s return trip eastbound. It had to happen before Leo discovered the safe heist.

  Roxanne knew she’d just have to trust Dorian at this point…and keep Leo out of his bedroom. He’d notice the messed up lacrosse t-shirt “shrine” in the vault, immediately. She had not had time to put the glass back on the frame and hang it back up properly. But she was sure she’d closed all the drawers to those now missing diamonds, the ones now tinkling in the hidden pockets inside her boots.

  They executed a rapid tango twist, causing the diamonds to make that sound again, and Leo said, “I must confess that I bought you a diamond ring, Roxanne. I was hoping you’d think of it as a promise ring; another Fueblaster?” Leo changed the subject quickly, realizing he’d overstepped.

  Roxanne almost choked on her drink.

  She made a rapid tango dip. Thankfully, the music was loud enough to mask the sound of several billion vouchers worth of diamonds jumbling against each other in her boots. She had no idea why she’d taken them. It was not part of Dorian’s plan, and he might be angry she had stolen from Leo.

  “Just get the formula, Roxanne. We have no need for Inc. CEO blood money.” That’s what he’d probably say. But here she was, doing a tango with weird, obsessed Leo Songtain, in black leather boots lined with diamonds.

  What is that ancient song about diamonds on the soles of your shoes?

  “No thank you Leo. I’ve had enough Fueblaster to last a while, although your drinks are mixed and chilled to perfection. How about some dinner, maybe some pink abalone steaks with a dry Chardonnay? It’s my favorite.” “Whatever abalone is,” Roxanne thought to herself; she had never even seen one, not even when she went diving off the #4 up top platform to hunt for sharks. She thought pink abalone had gone extinct a hundred years ago. But, Leo would try to find it for her or get some cloned; and it would buy her some time. Once she got word that Rose was safely out of Hong Kong territory, she’d agree to check out his safe, but alone first. She’d make up some excuse about wanting to select her own jewelry. Then she could put everything back in order.

  Rose also needed to buy some time. She’d reached the end of the park, near where Dorian told her she would find an entry portal to Aberdeen tunnel. But, there was no tunnel in sight. She could hear the guards approaching from not very far off, and it was starting to rain, in multi-colored sheets.

  It was that kind of rain, acid then basic…like that old song, Purple Rain.

  Rose had to seek cover, and quickly. The guards and their dogs would have protective cover suits, but Rose had none, and if the rain hit her for too long her fur would melt and she’d look like a giant Chihuahua. How humiliating! She ducked under a piece of tarp, probably left by a homeless person, and peeked out for another try at finding the well-hidden tunnel entry portal. It would be well hidden because it was used daily by homeless and zone-less welfs, as their entry to whatever they used for an underground shelter once the sun came out.

  “I’ve got to find the entry. Dorian, I’m here but I don’t see it. Can you emit a signal for me?” Rose was, of course, referring to the emission of a high-pitched sound, geared to the superior auditory abilities of canines. Do I brag?

  “I am initiating the signal now, Rose. Please follow the alternating tones. They should become stronger as you approach the door,” Dorian responded. “Once inside you will be met by someone you know. That person will take care of your needs.”

  Dorian initiated the signal and Rose slid in a crouched position, very slowly, to the position of the sound, trying not to alert the approaching team of Leo’s security guards. But, they saw her...and the dogs heard the signal.

  “I think I have a vid on her, sir. I can see the dog. Should I grab her, or stand back. We could stun her. We’ve got a cage, and our dogs are ready.” Rose could hear one guard speaking, just off to her left at about one hundred yards. And she could smell the hunting dogs. They’d be hard to control; might take one of her ears before they could be subdued. It was stupid of the guards to bring them along. They’d be fired if Rose was damaged. Even she knew that.

  The dogs ran towards the high-pitched sound, and got close enough to catch her scent under the tarp. But Rose managed to reach the tunnel door, cram herself inside, and slam it shut as the lead dog nipped a piece of her tail off.

  “Shit, that hurt. Oh boy, oh boy, that hurt.” Rose howled silently to herself so the guards would not discover the well-hidden door. The alpha search dog had taken a two inch chunk of Rose’s tail as a souvenir. The next thing that hit her was the sound…of a high pitched whistle, used by canine control units, and not unlike a forced session at a Pink Centipede concert. Rose wrapped her paws around her ears and knuckled under for the duration.

  “Sorry about the noi
se, but I had to deter your pack of admirers outside. I’ll take care of those guards outside in a minute, Rose. We gotta go now.”

  A familiar voice spoke in Maori. The voice belonged to a recognizable face with glow-in-the-dark eyes, the kind only present in natural mutants, clone soldiers, or in those original, cloned humans made by those crazy uncontrolled scientists, back at the start of the WME period. The man bent down to open his pack, took out a travel-type, at-home, do-it-yourself surgery kit, applied a regen wrap onto the end of Rose’s tail, and took off, Rose running behind in the dark tunnel. As Rose ran, it occurred to her that only a few species could run accurately and that fast in a pitch dark tunnel, animals with dark vision, like dogs, and those old time human clones. Rose was following one of the original clone soldiers, Michael Segev.

  Back at the Opus, Roxanne and Leo finished their tango and had just sat down to eat dinner, on fine platinum lined, bone china, by candle light, near one of his huge windows overlooking the harbor. She was thinking about Michael Segev, where he might be on the planet, and if she would need to com him for a rescue.

  She quickly nixed that thought. Segev’s rescues were way too messy, and except for Leo being an obsessive little geek, he was not terrible enough to warrant a nudge by Michael Segev. His nudges usually came off like a laser hit.

  By the time they sat down to dinner, it was late because Leo had to send out to Rudy’s Deli for some GMO abalone, and they were out, so he had to order up some from a supply ship offshore, which had to chopper it to the roof of the Opus, fresh and on ice. The cook took way too long because he could not get those little critters to come off their shells, and once they did, he still had to pound them into softness. Ah, the joys of being a personal chef.

  “Do you like the abalone, Roxanne? Personally I have never had the pink variety before, and I have to say it is rather nice, slightly sweet, but stronger than conch. I’ve told my chef to have it for you all the time, whenever you want it. I hope it is the same as you remember it.

  “It’s wonderful. Is it wild?” Roxanne asked.

  “No, this is a regen format, grown offshore in a netted part of the bay. I’ll have it cloned for you, using one of my new methods, so we can have it more quickly the next time.” Leo ate while reclining on an ottoman, only because he thought it made him appear taller. Roxanne preferred a regular table so he had one brought up from his collection of antiques on the 10th floor. He thought the teak went well with her fire red hair.

  “We have them all the time at #4, Leo. I go diving for them,” Roxanne lied. In fact, she had never even seen one before except in her Biology of Extinct Species course at University. “Where do you do your quickie cloning?” Roxanne asked, while chewing on one piece that did not get pounded enough.

  “I have a personal lab in the basement, and my own private hospital on the third floor, a beautification, and spa area on the second floor, an Olympic-sized pool on the roof, and of course, my clothing department is on the fourth floor. My staff and security occupy level five, and the kitchen is one floor down. I hate for the food to arrive cold.” Leo had just unwittingly told Roxanne the lay-out of his home.

  “I had no idea you still did bench work. How long have you been doing science now, five years?” Roxanne was genuinely intrigued with this bit of news. If he had additional and better Stem-wads® formulas, she was interested.

  “Yes, for five years. Right after undergrad, I got that PhD in MolBio; that was when I met you, in grad school.” Leo began to look wistful, so Roxanne changed the subject.

  “You’ll have to give me a tour after dinner. I really am interested in your lab work. You know I had a sub in Mathematical Physics and Astroscience, but I always wished I’d done the Bio sub.” Roxanne was not lying. She’d always been intrigued by Dorian and his organo-digitals. She had no idea how they worked, or that they were fueled by his own, metabolically produced ATP.

  “How do you manage to accelerate your cloning processes? I mean it must take, what, a week to even re-grow a hand at the R&R,” Roxanne continued.

  “Have you been there? It is a lovely place. I will take you there, although you obviously have no need for a regen protocol. I own a major share of it. It is an outlet for Stemworm, Inc. But due to government regs, I cannot use the new materials until human clinicals are complete,” Leo replied, pouring her another glass of chilled chardonnay.

  “No, I’ve only heard about the place. My rig doesn’t do down-time there, only at bubble-stop #4, my dad’s place, and rarely at #2, which is very boring.” Roxanne had to think fast. She’d almost slipped, letting Leo know she’d even heard about the R&R, let alone that she’d been recently chased by pirates through the sewer city tunnels, and had Michael Segev scramble a hoard of tranquilizer drones to allow her escape.

  Just as he was about to explain his clone acceleration process and take her on that lab tour, Leo’s bot-com chimed.

  It was, once again, that bot-com.

  “What do you want? I’m eating dinner, can you call back later?”

  It was Max. “Mr. Songtain, sir, did you forget The Board meeting? We are all here waiting for you. The merger with Organ-Dreams Inc. is on the table. The reps flew in from Korea today. You do remember that we were planning the merger; it’s the brain cell regen thing. Should I cancel?” Max spoke softly into his com, from an adjacent room. The group had gone to dinner without Leo; Max made up some excuse. But now, Leo had to make an appearance, for bushido sake, at least!

  “Oh yes, I mean no, I didn’t forget. I’ll be there right away.” Leo covered the bot-com with an abalone juiced hand and mumbled, “But I’m not even dressed for it.” He tried to remember what suit he was supposed to wear to The Board meeting.

  After several seconds, he rang his personal clothing master on his other com, and the assistant immediately appeared at the door, carrying three suits. Leo pointed to the purple one, with the aqua shirt, and black tie. Roxanne just looked on, finishing off her abalone, with some nice cold chardonnay and fresh aqua-pod grown strawberries. It seemed like such a fuss; she only just had her black leathers and orange Incs. And in her case, that was a luxury. Most worker levels only had their uniforms.

  Leo looked crestfallen at having to leave his Roxanne on their first night together, but he excused himself and followed the assistant to his changing room, bot-com still activated. Roxanne could hear him discussing the meeting with Max, on his room speaker. While they were in the next room, Dorian spoke to Roxanne on her own bot-com, told her to get to that meeting. It may facilitate an easier escape...easier than from the Opus. He said he’d send her the building layouts to guide her to a safe exit, once she got to the Songtain Building.

  “Your limo is already prepped and ready, sir. I took the liberty; it’s your hover version so you should be here in ten minutes. I can hold them off with shots of bourbon until you get here. But please make it quick, sir.” Max Peabody chimed off and went back to The Board room.

  He called the meeting early when he heard that Roxanne Smoot had arrived at the Opus. He surmised that Leo would want to bring her to The Board meeting to show her off to his fellow CEOs. Max figured it would be the easiest way to give his hired guns clear access to their target, Roxanne Smoot. He already arranged for them to gain access to the building, using the back loading dock behind the labs. They would arrive in a van marked Biohazards, park out back, and Max would let them in. It would be a quick assassination; would look like Leo was the planned target, but Roxanne was collateral damage. Max even arranged to jump in and push Leo to the ground, like the hero of the day. Maybe he’d get a huge bonus and that early retirement.

  He’d be more excited if only his stomach would stop hurting.

  Meanwhile Leo executed a rapid costume and personality change, and returned to the dining room of his penthouse. He was sorely disappointed at having to leave Roxanne on their first night together. Plus that slab of rather uncooked abalone had left him not feeling well. His stomach churned in protest as his
assistant tied his tie, and handed him his attaché case, a fine black Moroccan leather folder type, stuffed with some hand written bogus notes, for effect.

  Max wasn’t feeling well either; his stomach ached nonstop. He’d had his personal physician come over the previous night to see if he’d contracted one of the thirty seven new versions of the flu virus, even though he’d had shots for each and every one of them. The physician said that, other than appearing tired, which would be normal for anyone serving as the chief legal counsel for Leo Songtain, he could find nothing wrong for someone sixty years old.

  This was odd because Max Peabody was only forty-two. He glanced in the mirror along the wall as he reentered The Board room. He did look terrible, much older than he was. He thought it was just pre-murder stress; he was thinking maybe he needed to drink more of that new CEO nutria-blend. After this was over he knew he’d need a nice long vacation on Fiji.

  “Who was that, Leo?” Roxanne asked nonchalantly, from behind the bar. She’d polished off the abalone, and sipped some champagne from a long-stemmed crystal glass, while munching on toast slathered with black caviar and sour cream. She figured she might as well try everything before she escaped, even fish eggs. Roxanne was sure she’d never get abalone or fish eggs at the local rig-ryder fast food joints.

  She was finally feeling more confident, because until that last bot-com from Dorian she’d been worried about her escape strategy. But with Dorian’s aid, she now had an opportunity; she would escape from Leo Songtain’s building at the harbor, during his board meeting. Plus, the harbor was much closer to that rebel submersible, the one she planned to take to Tokyo.

  “It was Max at The Board. I am so sorry, but it is something I must attend. Please forgive me, Roxanne. I will return to you as soon as I’ve executed my appropriate face time. In the meantime, I can arrange some entertainment. Would you like me to have a musician booked? How do I look?” Leo turned around in front of Roxanne, but with his eyes on the wall mirror, not her. It was only one reason she thought he was the worst sort of dweeb. As he closed the mirror and got ready to enter his lift, Roxanne said,