“We heard you!” Titan bitterly shouted as he unfastened his mattress restraints.
“Loud and clear, Sasha, loud and clear,” Armada happily chimed in, unlocking his bedding clasps.
“Sasha?” asked one of Armada’s dorm mates. “Who’s Sasha?”
“Sounds like a Sasha to me,” Armada replied, “Just listen to that voice. A Western European Sasha. Long hair, long legs, exotic, intelligent, and sophisticated.”
“You wouldn’t know what to do if she walked right up and bit you,” Titan snapped, then broke into a coughing fit.
Armada and the eight roommates turned in unison and looked at Titan as he wearily slipped his legs into his jumpsuit.
“Hey, buddy,” Armada gently called out, hovering in front of his locker. “You’re, uh … kinda moving in slow-mo. You feeling okay?”
“I’m fine!” Titan growled, struggling to dress himself. “I just need to get to the commons and take my supplements.”
Armada zipped his jumpsuit and motioned for the others to leave. As his brothers finished dressing and floated out of their barracks, Armada pulled himself next to Titan. His skin was pale and discolored with patches of light yellow and hints of green and grey. Tiny beads of perspiration glistened on his neck.
“Hey, c’mon pal,” Armada said. “Let’s take a look at you.”
Armada tenderly spun his friend around to face him. Titan’s cheeks were sunken in and he had deep, purplish brown bags under his eyes. There was a thick, golden crust near his tear ducts and dried clumps of blood just inside the nostrils.
“Okay, cowboy. Let’s you and me go to the Nursery and get you checked out.”
“No! No!” Titan emphatically stated, “I’m fine. Just gimme my supplements and I’ll be all right. Don’t take me down there, Arm. Please! You know what happens when one of us complains, don’t you? They get held back and quarantined!”
“Nobody’s gonna quarantine anyone,” Armada chuckled and hugged his brother.
Titan grasped at Armada’s jumpsuit, buried his face in his friend’s chest, and wept uncontrollably.
“Hey, it’s okay; you’re just run down. I’m sure you probably caught a bug from something down on the SUBOS. We’ll go to the Nursery; they’ll know what to do and have you fixed up in no time at all.”
“I don’t want you and the others to think that I can’t handle everything,” Titan confessed.
“No way, man! You? They won’t give it a second thought.”
“I’m not a failure. Am I?”
“C’mon, stop it now. No one, and I repeat no one, will ever think you’re a failure.”
“You sure?”
“Sure I’m sure. They might think you’re a dork, but a failure? Never!”
Armada’s chummy insult caught Titan off guard and instantly made him laugh. Titan launched a large volume of mucus from deep inside his sinuses. The blood-tinged glob splattered on Armada’s chest and both men stared at it in quiet shock. After a moment of silence, their eyes met and the best friends laughed out loud.
“Thanks, oh, so much, idiot!” Armada snarkily commented, then pulled himself to the sink and mirror.
“Oh, man! I am so sorry! I couldn’t help it,” Titan lightheartedly apologized, following Armada.
Titan floated next to Armada and saw his reflection in the mirror. His smile abruptly disappeared and a sense of panic washed over him.
“All right, snot slinger. Let’s make you presentable.”
Armada turned Titan away from the vanity and grabbed a hot washcloth from the steam box. Titan bowed his head and tried to suppress his tears. As he wept, blood began to drip out and away from his nose. Armada quickly yanked several tissues from the dispenser and pressed them against Titan’s nostrils.
“Slow down, slow down. You don’t want them to know you’re crying, do you?”
Titan shook his head.
“I didn’t think so. C’mon, straighten up your big, fat, ugly face, blow all that crap outta your nose and let’s change into our EVA suits.”
Titan blew his nose repeatedly while Armada changed suits. Armada helped Titan out of his jumpsuit and, noticing that it was saturated with sweat, grabbed a stack of steamed washcloths.
“Mm, mm. Nothing screams brotherly love quite so loud as giving your roommate a sponge bath!” Armada drolly exclaimed as he wiped Titan’s skin clean.
“A little more on the rear end, please, Helga,” Titan laughingly demanded.
“Oh, may I?” Armada replied and popped Titan on his bottom with the washcloth.
“Ow!” Titan squealed and rubbed his stinging derriere.
“Say just one word. Please!” Armada threatened, twirling the cloth in preparation for another strike.
“Okay, I give!”
“That’s what I thought you’d say. See? You’re gonna be okay.”
Titan reached for his friend and embraced him once more.
***
“I want you to stay with him and the both of you come back on the same CARBEL,” Garret ordered, connecting Armada and Titan to the POG. “The last thing I need is to have Wycz or White on my butt because you two are wandering around unsupervised. Got it? You stay with Titan and come back together.”
The brothers nodded their heads in agreement.
“You’re gonna be just fine,” Garret said with a smile and a tap on Titan’s helmet.
Garret’s face, however, told a different story as soon as Titan turned away.
The twins secured and tightened their tie-down straps, sat on the platform, and leaned back against the POG. The descent to the SUBOS would give the duo more than an hour to close their eyes, gaze out at the stars, or watch the land below greet the sun.
***
Armada and Titan stood in front of the desk in the reception area of the Nursery hospital on floor fifteen. The man behind the desk was dressed in blue scrubs, had a breathing mask hanging around his neck, and wore a face shield. Feeling weak and light-headed, Titan leaned against Armada for support. The brothers waited quietly for several minutes, unacknowledged.
“Control identity, subset, primary and secondary application?” the man finally said without so much as a polite glance in Titan’s direction.
“Evan, Titan, forty-four, communications and sanitation.”
“And you?”
“Me? Oh, I’m not here to….”
“Control identity, subset, primary and secondary application?” the man rudely repeated, unwilling to look at either of them.
“I’m only accompanying my…,” Armada tried to explain.
“Control identity!” the man snarled, slamming his fist on the desk. “Subset! Primary and secondary applications!”
“Evan, Armada, nine, satellite telemetry, digital encryption and security.”
“Thank you!” the man sarcastically snapped as he entered the clone’s data. “Was that such a difficult question to answer?”
“Look, they sent me down to help. He’s been feeling….”
“What I don’t need is to hear you tell me what is or isn’t wrong with your … friend,” the man again rudely interrupted Armada.
The man rose from his seat, snatched a pair of gloves from the wall dispenser, and stepped around the end of the desk. He then pressed a button on the underside of the countertop and briskly approached Armada.
“We’ll take care of him now,” he gruffly informed Armada and took Titan by the arm. Just then, three more men quickly entered the waiting room. They, too, wore scrubs, masks, and face shields.
“Help me with this one,” the man ordered his assistants. “And watch the other; he’s got a bad attitude.”
“Arm?” Titan said groggily.
“We’ll take over from here,” one of the three assistants stated as he wedged himself between Titan and Armada. He hefted Titan under his left shoulder and aggressively pulled him away.
“Hey!” Armada snapped. “Be careful with him!”
“Arm! Arm!” Titan shouted
as he was carried to the double door entry of the hospital.
“Don’t worry about your friend,” one of the two goons insincerely growled, grabbing Armada by his wrist.
“He’s in good hands now,” said the second man, yanking Armada’s left arm behind him. “We’ll know exactly what to do with him.”
“I’ll be right here!” Armada hollered.
“Armada! Don’t let them take me!” Titan pleaded.
Armada heard the horrific panic and fear in his brother’s cries. Armada struggled to break free to help Titan, but was overpowered by his captors.
“Wait! Where are you taking him?” Armada yelled.
“That’s none of your concern,” one of the men hissed.
Armada helplessly watched as the double doors swung open and Titan was whisked away into the corridor.
“Armada!” Titan frantically wailed, “Armada! Don’t leave me!”
Armada’s heart was torn to shreds watching the doors close behind Titan as he screamed.
The two men holding Armada dragged him backwards across the waiting room, out the door, and into the main hallway.
“You better leave, right now!” one of the men said, pushing Armada away.
“I can’t. I have my orders. I’m supposed to stay with him and wait until he’s been checked out.”
“Well, the orders have changed,” the second man sarcastically added.
The men crossed their arms and glowered at Amanda. They were both at least a foot taller and probably outweighed him easily by a hundred pounds.
“When can I see him? Where do I wait?”
“Where?” one of the men repeated. “That’s up to you and your supervisor, but it won’t be in here. Dr. White doesn’t want any disturbances while he’s … investigating.”
The second man sneered at Armada and added, “That’s right. And you’re being a disturbance.”
***
Armada meandered aimlessly down the long hallways. He couldn’t stop replaying Titan’s cries for help as he listlessly strode along. The image and sounds of his brother being hauled away were seared into Armada’s brain and heart.
After a good half hour of roaming the exterior corridors of the Nursery, Armada approached a darkened section of the floor that, for all intents and purposes, appeared unused. Cubicles, desks, offices, phones, chairs, computers; everything was set and ready to go, but where were the people? Armada made sure the coast was clear and quietly opened one of the office doors. He tiptoed to a desk, rolled the chair back, and took a seat. Armada bent down, reached under the desk, and pressed the power button for the computer, then scooted the chair forward and waited for the monitor to come to life. After a few seconds, he heard the whirring of the hard drive and the screen flashed a window asking for log on credentials. Armada had no problem bypassing the security systems he helped to create and, in a matter of moments, gained access to the Engenechem Master Server, ran a search for ‘Chloe Rover Seven,’ and opened the files.
Armada studied the results of the ‘WATCHER’ program and found the exact department terminal numbers where Chloe was stationed throughout the day and the times she was actually logged on. With very few exceptions, Chloe was in the Research and Development Lab on Sixteen M every day, between 9:00 and 4:00. From there, she went to the Testing and Evaluation Center from four-thirty until almost seven. Armada noticed a definite alteration in Chloe’s schedule over the past two weeks. For the previous six months, the WATCHER scan placed her in the Child Development Center from 7:00 p.m. until 10:00. Now, she went directly from R and D to Advanced Application Studies for six hours of training on her third application.
Armada smiled to himself.
The clock on both the phone screen and computer monitor read 11:45. Armada opened an interoffice e-mail with a false heading, addressed it to Chloe, and typed out his message: ‘Do you honestly believe that you’ll ever be as smart as me?’ Satisfied with his flirtatious taunt, he clicked ‘send.’
While waiting for a reply from Chloe, he ran a search for ‘Evan Titan Forty-Four.’ He opened the digital file and, curiously, the most recent WATCHER scan report placed Titan in an area two floors above the Nursery medical services.
Armada’s monitor flashed a green flag, notifying him of an incoming message. He opened the note which read: ‘I know I am! Where are you? You’re going to get us in trouble.’ Before he had a chance to respond, another green flag appeared. This message read: ‘So, when do I get to see you?’ Armada was about to write a sarcastic reply when his gut told him to check in on Titan. This time, Armada ran an unscheduled WATCHER scan for an up-to-the-minute report on the status of all activated RFID chips. He speedily typed a response to Chloe: ‘On Fifteen J, medical services. Titan is ill. I’ll log on from the Arena tonight and contact you.’
A window in the bottom left corner of the monitor read ‘Scan Complete’ and had an attachment. Armada opened the document and found Titan’s chip number and current position. The report showed that Titan was now at the Aerie loading docks high atop the SUBOS.
“Crap!” Armada whispered to himself in disbelief. “Why are they sending him up by himself? Idiots!”
Armada hastily typed his farewell to Chloe: ‘Can’t talk now; got to go, will explain later. Check your inbox first thing tomorrow. Armada.’ He sent the letter, logged off the terminal, and shut down the computer.
Armada gingerly cracked open the office door and popped his head out to make sure he was still alone. He noiselessly scurried past the cubicles to the main artery of the Nursery. As he neared the entry to the Medical Services lobby, Armada felt his heart beating faster. He grasped the door handle and gave it a strong twist while pushing with his right shoulder. It was locked. Armada kicked and pounded the door and twisted the knob with all of his might. He stepped back away from the door and looked to his right and left. How odd, he thought. Here it is almost noon and the Nursery looked like a ghost town. The halls and offices should be buzzing with activity. A sudden and uncomfortable chill swept over him.
Armada ran the length of the corridor to the elevators. He repeatedly pushed the button, growing evermore impatient as he waited. The doors to one of the elevators finally parted. The lonely clone entered the cab, pressed the button marked ‘CARBEL,’ and sat on the floor for the long ride up.
The elevator cab came to a stop on the top floor of the SUBOS. Armada exited the cab, dashed to the locker room, snatched his helmet, and swiped his identity card on the security panel next to the door that led to the Aerie CARBEL loading stations. He walked onto the deck and visually scanned the area. Armada looked up and saw CARBEL One was ascending to the Halo. He turned around to check the timers and noted that the other four CARBELs were in different stages of construction.
Armada turned to his right, grabbed the stabilizing bar, and made his way to the CARBEL Registry Office. Once inside, he removed his helmet and approached one of the many clerks manning the service counter.
“Excuse me,” he said politely, “I was supposed to be on the last personnel transfer to Arena One. When will the next CARBEL be departing?”
The young man looked at Armada as if he were speaking Greek.
“What transfer?” he asked.
“The personnel transfer that just left. I was supposed to be on it with my buddy, but I got detained unexpectedly and couldn’t make it in time.”
“Uh, I don’t know exactly what you’re referring to, but CARBEL One began its ascent almost half an hour ago with a shipment designated for WES purposes only.”
“WES? Are you positive?”
“Yes, sir. They loaded twenty-four capsules for ejection. Gonna be another thirty arriving in two hours to send up.”
“May I speak with the deck officer?”
“I’ll see if he has a moment.”
The attendant turned, walked to the back of the office, and leaned his head into a glass walled cubicle. Armada watched the young man speak to his supervisor, point in his direction, and the
supervisor turn to look at Armada.
The attendant left the office and stepped toward Armada, saying, “He’ll be with you in a moment.”
Armada gazed about the large office and the hustle and bustle of the staff. Something that caught his eye were two men filling in time blocks on a large dry erase board that spanned the entire width of the office. There were dedicated columns for each individual CARBEL with clocks above the column. Every SUBOS elevator was numbered, had a digital display showing its position, and a dispatch number telling the men marking the board what was in each car. There was also a column showing the estimated arrival times for each SUBOS elevator to the Aerie. Armada took a close look at the information in the box for CARBEL One. There was no mention of any personnel accompanying the WES capsules.
“Can I help you?” the supervisor asked, startling Armada.
“Yes, sir. I was supposed to be on CARBEL One for the personnel transfer, but was unable to make it in time. So what I need to know is when will the next CARBEL be departing for the Arena?”
“What’s you’re control identity?”
“Evan, Armada, Nine.”
The deck supervisor looked up the shipment number on his tablet and shook his head, “I’m not showing any record of a transfer in personnel today. The most recent activity was four days ago, minus, of course, your arrival at 9:31 this morning.”
“Any chance that one of your boys messed up and didn’t make a notation of who was on the platform?”
“Mess up? My boys? Not a chance!”
“Do you have a copy of the manifests for today?”
“Sure do.”
The man pressed a few buttons on his tablet and pulled up a digital copy of the manifest for the load in route on CARBEL One. He then placed the tablet on the counter for Armada to inspect. There it was in black and white, twenty-four capsules marked for delivery to the WES.
As he looked over the digital document, Armada thought to himself, Something weird is going on.
“I know the manifest doesn’t mention anything about a transfer, but is there a possibility that someone just didn’t think about it or notice someone on the platform?” Armada politely inquired, pushing the tablet away from him.
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