The Clone Republic

by Steven L. Kent

  The ocean glistened as we drove down to Waikiki. Lee wanted to put the top up and use the air-conditioning, but I vetoed him on that one. I wanted the heat of the sun on my head, and I liked the warmth, though I could have done without the humid air.

  We left the car by a beach park and started to walk the last few blocks into town, but I heard the roar of the waves. “Let’s check out the beach,” I said.

  “How about after lunch?” Lee asked.

  “It’s right over there,” I said. I turned and started for the beach without waiting for Lee to answer. He followed, muttering words to himself that did not sound happy.

  I took off my shoes when I reached the beach; the hot sand burned the soles of my feet. That part of the beach was almost empty. Sprinting past sunbathers, I wrapped my shoes and wallet into my shirt and dropped the wad in an empty spot, and trotted into the water.

  The water was cold, but my body adjusted quickly. I loped forward through the shallows until the water was up to my waist, then I dived in. Lee followed me as far as the water’s edge, but his willingness to continue vanished the moment he felt the water. He walked back to my shirt and shoes and sat down beside the pile.

  The water was clear and bitter to the taste. The salt burned my eyes when I dived down for a look, but I kept my eyes open. There were fish all around me. I swam up for air, then dived to the bottom for a closer view. I saw small, silver fish and bright yellow fish that were about the size of my hand. A gentle current swept me farther out, and when I dived again, I could no longer reach the bottom. The fish knew no fear. Thousands of red, green, blue, and yellow fish huddled together in a lazy cloud that barely parted when I swam too close. Even when I grabbed at them, they sped out of my reach but did not swim away. I stayed down too long and my lungs burned when I swam to the surface and gulped for air.

  Back on the beach, Lee stood on the shore and waved at me. The current had pulled me a few hundred feet from shore. I needed to get back.

  I took a deep breath and dived for another look at the fish. What I saw was far more exciting. A white silhouette passed sleekly along the ocean floor deep below me. At first I did not realize what I was looking at, but only for a moment. It was a very trim woman with short blond hair trailing behind her in a silky web. This woman had long tanned legs and she cut through the water with otterlike grace. She wore swim fins and a diver’s mask, and with a kick from her perfectly toned thighs, she sprang forward over the coral reef.

  The woman’s face mask must have had an air supply because she held her breath for a very long time. In the time that she admired the coral shelf, I had come up for air twice and was about to swim up a third time. I would never have caught up to her had she swum away. Fortunately, she turned, looked at me, and came up with me. She broke through the surface just a few feet from me. She pulled off her mask and smiled. “And they said there was nothing dangerous in these waters.”

  We finished the preliminaries that quickly.

  Kasara swam to shore with me. As we waded out of the water, I saw Lee. Still sitting by my shirt and shoes, his expression was a mixture of jealousy and hate. He picked up my shirt and trotted out to meet us.

  I turned to Kasara. “I want you to meet Vince,” I said.

  Kasara smiled at Vince. She had a slightly mischievous smile—the big, unabashed smile of a child. I looked at her smile and her blue eyes and knew that my leave had unalterably changed. She was about six inches shorter than I—about five-foot-ten. She wore a bright red bikini that contrasted sharply against her tanned skin. She had a flat stomach with just a hint of visible ribs and muscular definition. I had to concentrate to keep from staring.

  “Vince, this is . . .”

  “Kasara,” she said in a soft voice.

  “You don’t happen to have a roommate?” Lee asked.

  “As a matter of fact . . .” Kasara laughed. She looked embarrassed. “I’d better get back to her.”

  “What are you doing tonight?” I asked.

  “What do you want me to do tonight?” she asked.

  Clearly she was used to more experienced players than me. I pulled my shirt over my head and shoulders. “We just got here last night. Maybe you and your friend could show us the better spots.”

  “Show you around?” Kasara said with a grin. “That sounds fun.” She pointed up toward the street. “See that two-story building over there?”

  We were on the outskirts of Waikiki, well away from the luxurious towers and glossy hotels. The twoand three-story buildings that lined the far side of the street were wedged together like books on a crowded shelf. “Which one do you mean?” I asked.

  She moved even closer until our bodies touched. In a moment, I would need to dive back into the cold water. Wrapping one hand around my waist, she pulled me so that I could see exactly where she was pointing. “You see that pink two-story building?”

  “Oh,” I said, feeling my legs go numb. I felt the side of her breast rub against my arm.

  “Think you can meet us there at seven o’clock?” she asked, her voice sounding husky.

  “Seven it is,” I said.

  “Don’t be late,” Kasara said, releasing me. I could barely stand. She, on the other hand, walked away down the beach as if nothing had happened.

  “Not bad, Harris,” Lee said. “I hope her roommate looks that good.”

  The sun set as we arrived at Kasara’s hotel, but the sky remained bright for another two hours. The warm night air, so pleasant compared to the burdensome humidity of the day, was filled with the smell of the ocean.

  Kasara stayed in a rattrap hotel with pink adobe walls and stubby, Moorish archways. The manager had plastered the walls of the lobby with advertisements for car rentals and island tours. “How much do you think they charge per night?” I asked Lee.

  Lee was not listening. “Wayson,” he said excitedly, “if the roommate is as good-looking as Kasara, I’ll really owe you, pal.”

  Kasara and her roommate came gliding down the steps into the lobby. Kasara wore a short, white dress that stopped at the very tops of her thighs. Jennifer, her roommate, wore a green sundress. Kasara was the prettier of the two, but Jennifer was not off by much. I liked her dark brown hair and green eyes. So did Lee. He and Jennifer matched up well and started chatting almost immediately.

  “You look beautiful,” I said to Kasara.

  “Thank you,” Kasara purred, and gave me that young girl smile. As we turned to leave, she moved very close to me, and I felt an urge to put my arm around her waist. She rubbed up against me, and my hand seemed to slide around her of its own accord. She looked at me and beamed.

  “Are you hungry?” I asked.

  “Let’s walk around,” Kasara said. By that time, the street vendors had rolled their carts out along the sidewalk. A couple with two young boys was looking at a cart covered with toys. Vince and Jennifer paused in front of that cart, and he bought her a surfer doll. They seemed happy.

  “I could get you one of those,” I offered.

  “You’ve got to be kidding, Harris,” she said. From then on, I let Kasara do most of the talking. She told me about her job. She worked as a cocktail waitress on Olympus Kri. When I asked her what she thought about the row in Congress, she did not know what I meant. I asked her if she voted for Gordon Hughes, but she did not know the name.

  She was just a girl who worked in a bar saving up tips for an annual vacation on Earth. She hated her job. She had a boyfriend back home, but did not like him much, either. We quickly established that she did not care about politics, professional sports, or novels. Movies and dancing, on the other hand, she talked about endlessly.

  Kasara did not ask many questions, not even which branch Lee and I served in. I suppose she already knew my basic story. She might not have known if I was in the Army or the Navy, but she knew I was military and probably guessed that I grew up in an orphanage.

  A little way down the road, I saw a familiar stand surrounded by flaming torches. “Hey, V
ince,” I called back. “This is where you bought that papaya thing last night.” A crowd had already lined up around the stand.

  “I want to try one,” Kasara said, sounding excited.

  “It practically killed Vince,” I said. “He was still getting over it when we went to the beach this afternoon.”

  “Did you try it?” Kasara asked.

  “I think it’s mostly Sagittarian Crash,” I said.

  “Wayson, I work in a bar, remember? I can handle it. It’s for tourists, probably half fruit syrup and ice cream. Let’s get one.”

  I gave in and Kasara smiled and nuzzled her head against my shoulder. It reminded me a bit of Mynx, purring on my lap as she grabbed the fish from my breakfast. But Kasara was exactly the right height to fit against my chest, and I felt the warmth of her body. “Do too much of that, and we may have to make it an early night,” I warned her.

  She flushed. “Don’t be too sure of yourself, Harris,” she said, with a sheepish smile. I wasn’t. My heart was beating so hard, I expected my Liberator glands to start filling my blood with endorphins and adrenaline like they did in battle.

  “What the hell do you think you are doing?” Lee gasped as we approached the fruit stand. “That thing wiped me out last night.”

  “We’re going to split one,” I said.

  “It’s your funeral, Harris,” said Vince. “Jennifer and I are going to walk around a bit. Maybe we will run into you again later.” Jennifer gave Kasara a friendly peck on the cheek, then Lee and Jennifer vanished into the crowd.

  “How many?” the man running the cart barked as we approached.

  “One,” I said, then seeing Kasara’s disappointed expression, I corrected myself. “Two.”

  “Four dollars,” the man said, holding out his hand.

  I paid.

  Crash loses a bit of its bite when diluted with sugar. The fruit juice and ice cream might have made this drink sweet, but I still felt the nearly toxic alcohol in my blood. Kasara worked away at her drink slowly, taking little sips and talking cheerfully. The more she sipped, the more she rubbed against me as we walked. I would have proposed going back for seconds, but I was afraid it would kill her.

  “This is so good,” she said. “We make these at the bar, but it’s not the same without fresh papaya.”

  By that time the sky had gone completely dark. Tourists of all descriptions now filled the streets. “Are you hungry?” I asked.

  Kasara laughed. “Are you kidding? I just drank enough for two meals.” As we walked toward the beach, we passed a bin with an open fire. Kasara tossed her half-finished fruit into the flames, and we both jumped when we heard the explosion.

  “You want to sit and talk?” I asked.

  “Talk?” she asked suspiciously, though I doubt she would have minded if I proved her suspicions correct.

  We walked across the beach and sat down near the water. Waves rolled in stopping just short of where we sat. A cold breeze came in off the ocean. Leaning back on my elbows, I looked into a sky brimming with stars. Somewhere out there was the Kamehameha .

  She placed her hand on my thigh and I knew that I did not know what was ahead.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I looked over at Kasara sleeping beside me and did not know what to do. I wanted more of what we had done last night, but I also wanted to get away from her. It might have been unknown territory for me, but it was certainly nothing new for her. I did not know if I had embarrassed myself. She slept so soundly, and she looked like an angel as she slept. Her hair, straight and golden, was spread across the pillow. With her eyes shut and a slight smile playing on her lips, she looked sweet . . . almost innocent. She barely stirred, and I did not want to wake her.

  I climbed out of bed and looked around my room. I would not describe myself as a naturally neat person, but as a military orphan and a Marine, I had been forced to maintain orderly quarters. From childhood up to the moment I set foot on Gobi, I had been subjected to weekly and sometimes daily inspections. If my bed was not made just right, if I did not fold my clothing properly in my locker, if the floor around my rack was not spotless, I was virtually assured KP duty or time cleaning the latrine. Kasara, apparently, did not have the same discipline.

  Her dress was tossed over a chair in the corner of the room. Her shoes and socks were in two separate piles. Her bra hung from the top of my dresser. We had taken off our clothes pretty quickly the night before, but how had she managed to scatter everything like that? I thought about picking up after her, then decided against it.

  Knowing that I might later regret the decision, I pulled my media shades off my dresser and went to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Sitting down and taking a sip, I booted up my shades and scanned the pangalactic headlines. Klyber’s judicial sideshow had begun. The ten thousand Mogat Separatists we captured on Hubble were now appearing in court on Ezer Kri.

  The story included a quote from Nester Smart, the provisional governor of Ezer Kri. I was not aware that there had been a change. The story did not mention anything about Governor Yamashiro. There were several lengthy video segments from the courtroom floor. Every feed showed the same thing—male prisoners sitting in groups of four to ten at a time, remaining absolutely stone-faced as judges read the accusations.

  I watched two of the feeds. I found it hard to concentrate; thoughts of the previous night kept clouding my mind. What I really wanted to do was wake Kasara and see what might happen, but I thought I should let her sleep for another few minutes.

  I viewed one last clip. Just another judge reading the exact same four charges—sedition, assault against officers of the Unified Authority military, premeditated murder, willfully obstructing the law . . . The camera panned around the court to show the jury. And then it dawned on me. Not one member of the jury had black hair. Nobody had Asian eyes. No one in the previous video feeds had Japanese features, either.

  I found a sidebar showing man-on-the-street interviews conducted in downtown Rising Sun. The streets looked empty, and the few people who gave interviews looked cosmopolitan. The first time I read about Ezer Kri, the article said that the planet had nearly 12.6 million people of Japanese descent. The population of Rising Sun was over 80 percent Japanese. It would have taken one hell of an airlift operation to slip that many people off the planet. Later I searched for the latest demographic statistics from Ezer Kri. I found an article that was only one month old. There was no mention of a Japanese population.

  “Damn, Wayson. You’re reading the news,” Vince Lee said in disgust.

  “They’ve started the trials on Ezer Kri,” I said.

  “You need to get your head out of those shades,” Lee said. “Kasara and Jennifer came as a package deal, and I am not going to let you speck this up.”

  Lee had a point. Bright sunlight shone through my kitchen windows. The curtains fluttered in a gentle breeze. I sipped my coffee and discovered that it had gone cold.

  “You and Jennifer had a good time last night?” I asked.

  “We did,” he said. “From the sound of things, you and Kasara did okay. I promised Jennifer that we’d all drive around the island. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Sounds like fun,” I said. I went to wake Kasara up. She and I had breakfast about forty minutes later.

  We drove east, following the coast. The highway wound around bays and mountains, through small towns and wide-open countryside. Vince drove and Jennifer sat beside him. Kasara and I sat in the back. She nuzzled against me and occasionally stroked her hand over my thighs. She did not say much. She seemed wistful.

  The coastal road led along the outside of dormant volcanoes. One side of the street was barren, the other side dropped straight down to the ocean, a fathomless mosaic of blues and greens. Kasara leaned forward and spoke to Jennifer. “Let’s stop.”

  Jennifer put her hand to Lee’s ear and relayed the request. He pulled into a scenic parking area overlooking the ocean, and we went to have a look.

  I had seen enoug
h from the car and didn’t need to look much longer. Vince and Jennifer didn’t care about much of anything. She held his arm and smiled. They talked happily. Kasara held my arm, too; but her thoughts were elsewhere. Soon she would return home. She dreaded the idea. She was a girl who lived for one week out of every year—the week she spent on vacation. Kasara stared down at the waves as they dashed against the black rock walls of the cliff. Wind blew her silky hair across her face. She did not smile, and her eyes seemed far away.

  “The view is beautiful,” I said, mostly because I was tired of looking at it and hoped to wake her from her trance.

  “I could watch this all day,” she muttered.

  God help us, I thought, but I did not say anything. There was no peace in her face. The girlish smile that had so lured me had vanished. Without it, she was more beautiful than ever.

  “Do you think there are fish down there? Wouldn’t the waves kill them?” she asked.

  “I don’t know anything about oceans,” I said, “but those currents look strong.”

  “We have an ocean on Olympus Kri,” she said, prying her eyes from the view. She looked at me and smiled. It was not the same smile I had seen the day before.

  “Does it look like this?” I asked.

  “I’ve only seen pictures,” she said. “I’ve never gone out to the coast.”

  She tightened her grip around my biceps. “You’ve probably seen all kinds of oceans.”

  “I’ve only been to four planets so far,” I said. “One was a desert and one was toxic.”

  “Poor Wayson,” she said. “I’m sure you’ve seen some amazing places. So exciting to spend your life on a ship traveling around different worlds.” As she spoke, her thoughts drifted, and her smile became more pure. She reached an arm around my waist and we kissed.

  “Seen enough?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” she said.

  We turned toward the car. Vince and Jennifer were already there, watching us and talking.

  “Hey,” I said. “Vince, did you see that sign?”