by MJ Blehart
“Agent Jones is right,” Martinez remarked. “This really is hardly a city.”
Onima looked around. It reminded her of pictures of ancient coastal villages on Earth in a nation called Greece.
The streets were cobblestone and surprisingly busy. No building was more than three stories tall. Each avenue occupied a level separate from the one above or below it, allowing for a view of the green ocean between buildings.
Still, given the number of people on the streets, Onima could see why it was classified as a city.
Jace, as usual, was collecting dirty looks from everyone who saw him. The town was so small that clones were likely not found there, Onima realized.
It was an easy walk, and Onima paid little attention to the banter among her team. Still, it made her feel better to hear Yael talking with Martinez. Onima completely trusted her.
It wasn’t long before the team stood in front of an ancient hinged wooden door, painted a deep green, with an ornate handle.
Beside it, on the jamb, was a comm.
Onima looked back at her team. “Shall we?”
5
“Yes?” a voice answered after Onima touched the pad.
Jace watched her flash her digital warrant card at the comm. “Sorry to trouble you, ma’am. I am Marshal Onima Gwok, CBI. My associates and I would like to speak with you.”
After a moment’s pause, the voice said, “Yes, yes, very well. Please come in.”
There was a buzz and click, and Onima turned the handle. The door opened.
A short hallway gave way to stairs. Onima led them up to an open space and a kitchen. To the right was a hallway, and to the left, a window looked across a terrace to the next building.
In the open space were three couches, a table and projector between them, and a dining table with four chairs around it.
An elderly woman stood near the couches. She was probably in her mid to late nineties, Jace guessed. Clones’ enhanced vision made recognizing a person’s age easier, but he didn’t know why that enhancement existed.
The woman looked at the odd group. “How can I help you, Marshal?”
“Are you Dr. Raima Steingarten?” Onima asked.
The old woman smiled. “I have not gone by that name in...oh, a dozen years or so. But yes, that’s me.”
Onima returned her smile. “Sorry to trouble you, Doctor, but we have a few questions. Let me introduce you to my team.”
Stepping closer to Dr. Steingarten, Onima presented the team to her. “This is Deputy Marshal Kara Martinez, Special Agent Yael Amber, Special Agent Feroz Jones, Dr. Maira Patel and Special Consultant Jace Rojas.”
“Oh my,” Steingarten said as she saw Jace. “An infantry clone. What, may I ask, is your designation?”
“AC J7-2247,” Jace told her.
Dr. Steingarten nodded. “Yes, yes. You look well, young man. You saw combat?”
“I did,” Jace acknowledged.
“Yes, yes, you would have.” Dr. Steingarten paused, looking to the team. “Where are my manners? Can I get you anything to drink?”
“No, ma’am,” Onima answered. “If you don’t mind, Doctor, we have many questions to ask you.”
“I thought this day might come,” Steingarten said. She sat down on a couch, gesturing for to the team to join her.
“What day is that?” Onima asked, taking a seat beside her.
Dr. Steingarten tapped a finger on her right temple. “This knowledge is not supposed to exist anymore. It’s a vast galaxy, but no one can hide forever.”
“While we are here about what you know,” Onima said, “we are not here to bring you in. To be honest, as far as I know, no authorities are actively looking for you anymore.”
“How interesting,” Dr. Steingarten said. “Very well. How may I help you?”
“Dr. Steingarten,” Dr. Patel began, “we know you had an essential role of the cloning process. What, exactly, was your specialty?”
“Ah,” Dr. Steingarten said. “I was one of the main behavioral scientists responsible for understanding how to ‘program’ the brain scanning into the clones.”
Onima raised an eyebrow.
“Which government did you work for?” Dr. Patel continued.
“Neither,” Dr. Steingarten replied. “My research was general, and not specific to either government or their cloning programs.”
“Well, that’s interesting,” Feroz said. “During the war there was, for a while, much speculation in IHCF that once clones became the combatants, the whole thing was just a fabrication to advance an industry and make certain people very, very wealthy.”
Dr. Steingarten laughed. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t know anything about that. What I know is about both the brain-scanning and imprinting technologies. I suppose both the NEEA and NECC used that technology, since it was sold freely to any who could pay, at the time.”
“So you were part of the original research into total human cloning, brain scanning, and imprinting for the clones?” Dr. Patel asked.
“Yes,” replied Dr. Steingarten. “I figured out how to program a portion of the human brain, much like a computer.”
“Were you involved in scanning the donors’ brains?”
“Yes, yes,” said Dr. Steingarten. “Not that I knew that at the time, mind you. I was brought specific soldiers who met the qualifications for the types of clones that were wanted for military use. I did not, however, know which side they were on—or if they were just being used for experimental purposes and proof of concept.”
“You didn’t think to ask about it?” questioned Onima.
Dr. Steingarten chuckled. “Oh, my, no. I did not care which side would be using them. My focus was on scanning their brains, making certain adjustments, and adding various controls. This had never been done before. I’m a scientist. This was groundbreaking work.”
“So,” Jace said, “that means you were part of creating inhibitions in clones so that we’d not rebel?”
“Yes, I was,” Dr. Steingarten said.
“What about the initial experiments?” Jace asked. “We learned from scientists still studying clones that there were experiments to have more direct control over clones.”
“Ah,” Steingarten breathed. “Yes, that was an ambitious plan. While some argued that automatons could be created and programmed for warfare, they would lack the creativity of the human brain. Even the best artificial intelligence systems lack the improvisational ability of a human brain.
“However, clones would still be human, and there was a concern that they might, like humans, deviate and follow desires with passion rather than programming.”
Dr. Steingarten lifted a teacup to her lips and took a drink, then continued, “When we scanned the brains of the donors selected as the clone templates, we were able to isolate their skills and the aspiration to use those skills we desired.”
She pointed at Jace. “Rojas was an expert marksman, but also a skilled infantryman. We wanted that, but it was also important to capture and emphasize his drive to carry out those skills. We removed childhood development and unnecessary memories while tamping down zeal for other skill sets. Rojas, I recall, was a gifted guitar player.”
Jace laughed. “I haven’t a clue how to play an instrument.”
“Of course not,” Steingarten said. “The programming embedded in your brain inhibited your desire to do that, as well as numerous other skills Rojas the person had, but that a clone would not need.”
She tilted her head in reflection. “The human brain is nothing but an impulse-control computer. It is possible to develop an entire sector of the brain for programming which can override natural emotions and inclinations. We did that with the cloning program.”
“Right,” Dr. Patel said. “The control input sector.”
Dr. Steingarten agreed. “We were able to input both the brain scan data we had taken and altered, and controls to lessen passions for power, wealth, and advancement outside of the military structure.”
“Ah, that,” Dr. Steingarten mused. “That was an idea we worked on in early, small batches of clones to take control of them and guarantee loyalty and obedience. It never worked directly, you see, because it made the clones incapable of the self-actualization they were prized for. They were too automated, too mechanical. They were simply not effective in combat. Also, they were difficult to interact with because they lacked basic human interpersonal skills.”
“But the embedded command controls....” Jace pressed. “Even though they were dormant, could they still have been activated to control us?”
Dr. Steingarten clicked her tongue. “Yes, yes. But trying to control the clones through embedded coding proved to be utterly useless, frankly. We tried some new experiments with the embedded control commands left dormant for later activation, as a safeguard. But it was a massive failure.
“The price paid—though you did gain control over the clones that way—was just too high. They were so under control that they had to receive orders to perform even the most basic of functions.”
“To what degree?” asked Dr. Patel.
Dr. Steingarten shook her head. “It was awful. Once the embedded command controls were activated, the clones needed orders to eat, relieve themselves, and even to rest.”
“Even though the control command program was abandoned,” Jace said, “the programming was still embedded into all the clones, correct?”
Dr. Steingarten sighed. “Yes.” She leaned toward Jace. “You must understand, they were fundamental to the scanning, programming, and embedding process. To remove that programming from the process would be years of setback on the work, the equivalent of undoing decades of code. And once the programming was deemed sufficiently successful, production of ever-increasing batches began.”
She paused again to drink her tea. “Yes, yes, I saw where it was all going. I also knew that, in time, there would be a reckoning. So, I stepped away—and, over time, disappeared. But I am a scientist, and so I was still in contact with a colleague or two, keeping abreast of the continued research and development.”
Jace realized he was holding his breath. If a clone had ever had a mother, Dr. Steingarten was more or less it. She was a large part of why Rojas’s soldiering abilities were the core of Jace’s being.
“Doctor,” Onima asked, “we are not the first to visit you and question you about this recently, are we? Did you meet a gentleman by the name of Palmer Cadoret?”
“Oh, yes, yes,” Dr. Steingarten replied. “A nervous but pleasant young man. He asked me all about the embedded coding, and if a virus could be made to activate it. I am not a virologist, but since the sequence and process for its activation is lost—not even I remember how it worked—I suppose it could be possible, I told him.”
“You said,” Jace began, “that the cloning technologies were ‘sold freely to any who could pay.’ But who sold it? Was there a company involved, such as Bradley Mechanical and Biotech, Huang Omnisystems, or Colonial Exoplanet Ventures?”
Dr. Steingarten chuckled. “I had no knowledge of any corporations involved in the cloning process. Just the governments. I worked in academia and cared only about the research. I never minded where the grants to pay for my research came from—government, private industry, or both. I figured that either one of the schools, or perhaps the grantors, sold the information for profit.”
“And you were never concerned about that?” asked Dr. Patel. “That your research might lead to the creation of hundreds of thousands of clones for war?”
Dr. Steingarten laughed. “Concerned? No. That was the point of my research. But I imagined clones would go from battlefield to battlefield, living only to fight and die. I did not expect, at war’s end, that they might live on without a purpose to serve.”
Jace found that idea disturbing, and by the looks on the others’ faces, he was not alone in his opinion.
“Doctor,” Onima said, “is it possible, even though it was all supposed to have been destroyed over a decade ago, that someone may have been able to learn about the embedded coding? Might someone have had access to your research?”
Dr. Steingarten clicked her tongue again. “That question! Mister Cadoret asked the same thing. I took my notes with me when I left. But I could not take all my data. Much of it was on the datadrives at the research facility. So, yes, I suppose it is possible a person, persons, or company may have had access to it.”
There was a momentary silence as that sank in. Jace considered the implications.
To his surprise, it was Martinez who asked the next question. “You mentioned, Dr. Steingarten, that you disappeared, but maintained some contact with your fellow researchers. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” Dr. Steingarten said.
“Those associates and colleagues....” Martinez pressed on. “Are you still in contact with any who were not killed or arrested when total human cloning and brain scanning was banned?”
“Yes, yes.”
But before Dr. Steingarten could say anything further, the window overlooking the terrace exploded inward.
As Jace turned to look, half a dozen figures flooded into the apartment.
Figures in blue armored shells with black helmets.
6
Onima and her team leapt to their feet.
“Stop right there! We are CBI,” Onima called. “Reconsider whatever you have come here to do.”
In answer, the armor-shelled assailants raised their rifles and opened fire.
As one, Jace, Martinez, and Yael flipped their couch and drew their sidearms. Onima pulled Dr. Steingarten off the couch, drawing her pistol as she did so. Feroz and Dr. Patel dropped to the floor and flipped their couch, turning and sliding it to set up a new defensive position.
Armored shells could take a good deal of fire, but they wouldn’t last forever.
However, their attackers were better armed and armored than the team was. If Onima hadn’t had tremendous confidence in her team and their abilities, she would have sought another option.
“Feroz! Maira!” Onima called. Both agents had drawn their sidearms. “Protect Dr. Steingarten!”
Feroz nodded. He and Dr. Patel helped get Dr. Steingarten behind the couch and against the wall.
Onima rolled over the table, landing in a crouch with the other three behind the couch. It was holding up as a shield, but it wouldn’t take punishment forever.
“We have to keep them away from Steingarten!” Onima shouted above the din. Yael, Jace, and Martinez were each taking turns leaning over or around the couch to fire at their attackers. For now, the armor-shelled assailants were standing shoulder to shoulder, firing repeatedly.
“We need to split up,” Jace said. “Martinez, let’s dive over to the dining area, flip the table, and give them new targets.”
Martinez nodded, and before Onima could say anything, she and Jace both dove out toward the dining area.
Onima had drawn her second pistol and arose enough to see over the couch and fire a dozen or so shots of plasma with both guns before ducking back down. A second later, Yael raised her pistol over the couch and fired blindly.
Martinez and Jace had gotten to and toppled over the dining room table. Using it as a shield, they were now taking turns firing.
The assailants divided their attention between the two groups of shooters.
Onima’s comm squawked, and Jace called out, “All rise and fire, on three!”
She trusted Jace’s infantry training. Silently counting to three, Onima and Yael both arose and opened fire. Martinez also fired.
Jace appeared from around the dining table in a crouch against the wall. He held two pistols and fired at just one of the attackers continually. As the rapid, repeated plasma blasts overwhelmed the attacker’s armor, they stopped firing, shaking violently before they dropped.
Everyone but Onima dropped as the shooters sh
ifted their attention. She took Jace’s cue and targeted one at a time, shooting at them with both her pistols until their armor was overwhelmed and they dropped to the ground.
Onima ducked just as a barrage of plasma hit the couch. It smoldered, and she could see it would not be much of a shield for long.
“Yael,” she cried, “fall back to the other couch.”
Onima dove behind the couch Feroz and Dr. Patel had tipped over. Yael was there a moment later. They again took turns exchanging fire with the four remaining attackers.
Suddenly, Jace leapt back over the couch, almost landing on Onima as he did so. “Sorry!” he called.