Now, humanity’s apex waned before this new threat. Clones. Disgusting specters of men. And the pundits and hippies fought for their rights at every opportunity. Black Suit would end both wars if he could. He had ideas. But he answered to a higher power. For now.
Lost in his silent lunar soliloquy, he almost didn’t notice the young man’s return. Almost. But it was his job to see things coming.
He turned to find the young man standing next to a tall, blond man who carried himself with an intelligent confidence. The doctor’s hazel eyes looked Black Suit over and his face soured.
“I don’t have time for this,” the doctor said with a slight German accent. In the pocket of his white lab coat, a fist clenched and unclenched. “We’ve talked—”
“Ah, yes. Dr. Mendel Kubitz emerges. Time, you say?” Black Suit raised his eyebrows the same way a mother does when her child wastes her time with a nonsensical story. Dealing with these self-important teams was a necessary evil. “Yes, we talked about this. Dr. Kubitz, do you have any idea how fragile your little pet project is?”
“We do important work here,” Kubitz said.
“I’m sure.” Black Suit smiled. The practiced sparkle in his eyes disarmed the doctor in the most belittling way. “You need not convince me.” Black Suit looked to the ceiling as if a new thought had occurred to him. “Actually, you do. I don’t care how much fun you’re having. Or how much you get your rocks off in your sanctimonious quest for knowledge. I’m here to win this war. I have a team of six other scientists locked up in a fishbowl working toward solving actual problems. If—”
“Actual problems? Of course we’re solving actual problems. The Code—”
“The Code!” Black Suit snapped. “Oh yes. How did you describe it to me? You said the clones possess DNA markers, did you not? Breadcrumbs, as it were? Here’s the thing Hansel: you and Gretel in there have one week to follow those breadcrumbs home or the evil witch will shut down this program.”
Kubitz shook his head. “A week? Don’t misunderstand. I believe we’re close. Closer than we’ve ever been. But a week… this is impossible. We’ve been working for over a year and we’ve barely scratched the surface of what we can learn.”
“Yes, that describes the problem accurately.”
“We need more time. DNA is immeasurably complex. And the Sardaan were thorough in their craft. So far the proteins and folds are—”
“How long have we known each other, doc?”
Kubitz hesitated. “Four years.”
“In all that time, have I ever asked you to bore me with the science?”
“Well, no.” Kubitz looked at Holden, who stood watching the conversation, face pale. “But we are scientists here. If we’re not discussing science, we’re not doing our job.”
“Ah, full circle again. Do your job! What a novel idea.” Black Suit smiled and straightened the doctor’s lab coat with both hands. “Now listen, the powers-that-be are worried about Earth and—”
“Earth is safe. The Sardaan haven’t even come close.”
“First, don’t you ever interrupt me.” Black Suit held a finger in Kubitz’ face. “Second, Earth is safe. For now. But the big men with the big guns want to keep it that way. They’re a proactive bunch. They want to lob nukes and all manner of unseemly warfare at the bad guys.” He shook his head. “I don’t like that. It gets all messy, you see.”
Kubitz nodded slowly. “So, you’re telling me…”
“Fix this. Solve it. Before anyone else gets involved. Nobody else believes in you. I do. Don’t prove me wrong. It’s not the end of the world—wait, it is. Do your job. Or humanity might go extinct. No pressure. Cheer up, Fritz, and go win me a war.”
Black Suit flashed a wink at the red-haired what’s-his-name and stepped out of the lobby. As he walked toward the dock, he pondered the moon phases once more. If he was right and humanity was waning, what would the new moon hold?
Analysis
“Unbelievable,” Dr. Mendel Kubitz said as he stormed into the lab with Holden in tow. Fists balled somewhere between rage and impatience, Kubitz worked to calm himself in front of his peers. It was an uphill battle. He knew that stomping around would be just as likely to rocket him into the ceiling in the low gravity—the thought calmed his nerves. At least on the surface.
The fate of humanity on the line and their biggest concern was funding. As if the clones cared about that when they’d launched their attack on Charon and started this war. The Sardaan hadn’t been concerned about the financial status of the humans they’d abducted over the decades.
How could money matter right now?
Kubitz took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. There was no time to stew. He had to figure out how to cram half a decade’s worth of research into a week. His team was good, but not that good. Nobody was that good.
“Unbelievable,” he repeated, forcing himself out of the hostile environment of his thoughts.
Dr. Avani Sifra turned from her workstation to face Kubitz, pushing a strand of black hair out of her face. “Well, good morning. Who was our visitor?”
“Quite possibly my least favorite person in the galaxy.” Kubitz paced the small laboratory. “Bad news, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, my favorite kind,” Avani said. She leaned back in her chair and twirled a curl of her black hair around a pen. “Do tell.”
“Seven days,” Kubitz said. “He gave us seven days to find the Code.”
Avani sat forward in her chair. “Surely you’ve misspoken. You meant to say seven years.”
Kubitz took a seat, realizing his pacing would get him nowhere.
“No, he said a week.” Holden nodded with a scowl. “Man, that guy gives me the creeps.”
“Well, that’s impossible.” Avani gestured toward the screen in front of her. “Does this guy have any idea how complex DNA is? It’s not simply colored blocks and alphabets we’re working with here. The amount of combinations is staggering, to put it modestly.”
“You don’t have to tell me.” Kubitz rubbed his face with his hand. He could only allow his team to commiserate so long. They needed to get back to work. The Code wouldn’t find itself.
“So why the urgency?”
“He didn’t say. You know how it is, though. In wartime, military enlistment skyrockets. They’re worried that new recruits could be clones. Makes sense. Enlistment would be a perfect way to infiltrate. Billions of lives could be on the line. All depending on us.” Kubitz faked a smile he didn’t feel. “So, where are we?”
Avani rolled her eyes and turned back to her machine. “We had the computer start in the septins last night.” She called up a page of results on her screen. “SEPT5 appears as expected. We’ll start the next batch this morning.”
Holden recorded an overview of their progress in his own datapad. “How many genes are in the septin group, again?”
“About fifty.” Kubitz watched the data sync from Holden’s datapad to his own. “There are 150,000 different genes that we know and can study. It’s like a needle in a haystack.”
Holden’s eyes went wide, as if the weight of the daunting task had just settled on his shoulders.
“We may have luck in the septins,” Avani said. “Septins are proteins which help dictate cell division. There is much interest in how the clones appear to have normal cell division. That has long been a question in cloning and genetic research. It’s fascinating to study.”
Fascinating was one word for it. Kubitz admired Avani’s love for research. She was a great asset to his team. How he’d managed to recruit the top geneticist from the prestigious Delhi School of Medicine still escaped him, but he wasn’t one to scrutinize a gift.
For himself, Kubitz loved problem-solving, but rarely found the patience for research. The mark of an effective leader was one who knows how to surround himself with smarter people. Somebody somewhere had said that. Probably.
Though Kubitz didn’t share Avani’s enthusiasm for the chase, he nodded agreement. De
spite what the man in the black suit claimed, they had made progress. And Avani was right, the septin group of genes held promise for their efforts. Even so, they would need their fair share of luck to find the Code in time.
“At this rate,” Avani scribbled some math on a scrap piece of paper. “It will take 37,000 hours to visit all the genes. So we need to figure a way to cram four years of research into seven days?”
“Or get lucky.”
“Or get lucky,” Avani repeated. She sighed and melted back into her chair, wide eyes staring at the ceiling.
“Looks like we have our work cut out for us,” Holden said. “What happens if we miss the deadline?”
“I don’t want to think about it,” Kubitz said.
Holden stood. “Well then. I guess I better cancel all my hot dates this week.”
“I wasn’t aware you had a social life,” Avani said with a dry smirk.
“Well, maybe I was hoping to have one this week.”
Kubitz smiled. “With whom? We’re on the moon, remember? Or did you meet a cute little physicist from one of the other teams next door?”
Holden lowered his head.
“I’m joking, buddy. Hey, run a fresh pot of coffee, please. We’ll need all the help we can get if we’re going to try to tackle this thing.”
“You got it.” Holden shuffled from the lab toward the small kitchen.
“He’s young, but eager,” Avani said after Holden was out of earshot.
“I hope this war allows him to do something with it,” Kubitz said, his voice solemn. “When I took him in, I never expected he’d try to follow in my footsteps. At any rate, he’s a great lab tech. He does what we tell him. Even if he’s a little boyish sometimes.”
He sighed and gave himself a moment to breathe before sitting up and keying a few commands into his terminal. “Let’s get the next batch cued and see what we have. Six and seven, right? Let’s lick this thing and go home.”
The lab was hands-off. Articulating arms and clamps could manipulate all types of biological matter with the press of a button. A scientist at a computer terminal conducted the research from the safety of a desk chair, preserving both the integrity of any specimen and the health of the researcher.
Kubitz often wondered what the early days of modern science must’ve been like. The constant danger of toxic substances or acrid fumes putting the scientist at risk. The uncertainty. Contamination and observational integrity were never a given.
The adversity the pioneers of modern science overcame to effect their achievements made contemporary science feel almost like a video game. Controlling machines and automated equipment in many ways detached the scientists from their work. Kubitz preferred to work hands-on, when possible; he wanted to touch and feel. Tactile response made it hard to forget the importance of the task at hand. It was intimate. Personal. There was a certain humanity in solving problems and fulfilling tasks.
Still, he had to admit the technology made the process more efficient. What might have cost earlier scientists an entire day of sample collection, the machine did automatically while his team slept. The powerful system collected and organized the appropriate matter for the next day’s tests.
Avani keyed the commands for the computer to extract the next sample and placed a vial in the vacuum centrifuge. She executed the software, and the machine kicked into motion.
As the centrifuge whirred away behind the glass shield, she turned toward Kubitz. “We have three clones remaining. Not a large sample size. Any data collected may just be circumstantial.”
“Mm, like a previously undiscovered anomaly. We need a broader dataset. When is the next shuttle due? They promised us a ready supply of specimens.”
“It should have been yesterday. I had Holden inquire for me, and it seems the shuttle is delayed at the Ceres station. They couldn’t give a firm timeline.”
Kubitz pondered for a moment. “That’s interesting. I have an idea. If we find a common anomaly among the three clones, we’ll test it against the three of us. That may help us rule out some results.”
“Hardly foolproof.”
“Sure, but it’s what we have right now. If you pray, it’s time to pray that we get lucky.” Kubitz stood and walked toward the door.
“Doctor?”
Kubitz paused in the doorway. “Yes?”
“We’ll find it. The Code.”
While he didn’t share her optimism, Kubitz appreciated her attitude. He smiled at her before turning out of the room. He hoped she was right.
∆∆∆
An alarm sounded at the console, an annoying, shrill pulsing that jerked Avani awake. She hadn’t intended to fall asleep and her neck was sore from resting at an odd angle. As she rolled her head around to work out the kink, she keyed the terminal and silenced the alert. She yawned and pulled up the log from the scans, mentally preparing herself for the next batch.
She skimmed the results of SEPT6. The sequence matched her expectations, as far as the computer could tell. With over 70,000 nucleotide pairs making up the SEPT6 gene alone, manual inspection of the sequence was impossible. So she trusted the computer. Well within reason—the computer mainframe at the station was more advanced than anything she’d had in Delhi.
Since her graduation from Delhi, she’d wanted her efforts to be meaningful. Impactful. Her goals started with changing the course of human history and only went up from there. Like the discovery of the atom, or perhaps more fitting, the discovery of the double-helix, she planned to send a pulse through scientific history. When humans were first attacked by extra-terrestrials, she knew she had her chance. The opportunity to study a new biology was a dream come true.
Then the truth about this new enemy came out. Clones. Human clones. The Sardaan were out there, hiding in the shadows, but no human had ever seen one. Their existence was little more than whispers. It seemed likely that no human scientist would study this new life any time soon.
But there was a certain allure in studying the clones. So many questions to be answered. How did the advanced aliens clone humans with such precision? How did they solve the problem of entropy? Were the clones programmed or conditioned? Unlocking these secrets would be key to the war effort. And would afford her ample opportunity to make herself known.
The enemy had been thorough. Clones almost seemed a misnomer. Avani had seen dozens of them personally and records of nearly a hundred more and had never seen any two look alike. Either the Sardaan had manipulated the genetic structure enough to produce a similar variance found in natural humans, or the sheer sample size the aliens had collected was staggering. She couldn’t decide which outcome was more unsettling.
Discovering the Code would answer those questions and more. But that seemed more unlikely than ever on the heels of their latest ultimatum.
She sipped her coffee and spit it back into her mug. Too cold. She considered asking Holden to run another pot, but decided to do it herself. It would do her good to walk around the lab and stretch her legs. After looking over SEPT7.
Absently holding her coffee mug, she tabbed over to the next results. She saw something she hadn’t seen in over a year of working on this team: the red letters ANOMALY stamped at the top of the screen.
She didn’t realize she’d been frozen, staring at the screen, until the sound of her coffee mug shattering on the ground roused her. She ignored the wet coffee all over her feet and pulled up the detailed view of the result.
Heart in her throat, she asked the computer to scan for interference. Many things could trigger an anomaly, and she wanted to rule that out before she dove into the base-pairs to study the issue. Since the system was entirely automated, the computer could isolate any interference. There were only so many variables.
The data returned clean.
As she analyzed the results, she realized it should have been obvious. She wanted to kick herself for not thinking of it sooner.
∆∆∆
Kubitz fairly sprinted down the sterile corr
idors toward the lab. He tried to not let himself get excited. There’d been false alarms before and even he’d gotten carried away with inconclusive data. But there was something different in Avani’s voice. An infectious excitement.
“You’ve checked for contaminants?” Kubitz said as he hurried into the lab.
“Yes, of course. And radiation interference. I think we have the real thing. This,” she projected the analysis on the large main display, “is the Code.”
The Code. The gene sequence that gave away the clones’ identity. Proverbial breadcrumbs. He wouldn’t allow himself to fully believe it until he’d analyzed all the data for himself, but a small smile crept across his face all the same. The man in the black suit had given his team a week, and less than a day later, here they were.
Some of his colleagues had argued that the Code didn’t exist. By nature, clones would be genetically identical, so no telltale markers would exist.
Foolishness, of course. No copy would be completely indistinguishable from the source. Even before entropy set in. There was always a sign of outside interference. Weizmann said it almost 200 years ago.
And then there was the matter of the wide gamut of appearance in the clones. No one could alter DNA so systematically and not leave a trail. Kubitz knew there must be a commonality. Something in the genetics that marked them as clones. Thus, the Code.
“Let me see your interference scans,” he said. “We need to be sure.”
Kubitz sat at the terminal and reviewed the logs from the computer’s analysis. Any remaining pessimism faded as he scrolled through the screens. The data looked promising. Better than promising. He scrutinized the reports, searching for any kind of error.
There was none.
Nothing he could see, anyway. This was it. It seemed too easy.
“This is incredible. The data… Great work, Avani. Talk to me. What does the mutation do? What is the effect?”
“Look for yourself,” Avani tapped a few keys and a high-contrast image from the electron microscope filled the screen. The familiar otherworldly gray-scale focused on a single cell splitting into two. Cellular mitosis.
Echo- First Pulse Page 9
