Gene Drifters: The Clone Soldier Chronicles-Book III

by Takemoto, D. J.

  “We have the names of the missing clone soldiers, sir. I had to beat it out of the ones in captivity. THERE ARE THREE MALES MISSING, a JASON, SAUL, and CHAD, ALL OF THE YAC CLONE BATCH,” the security guard replied.

  10

  “MY NAME IS CHAD YAC,” he said…after, when they were slipping into Hawaiian shirts, and in his case, khaki shorts. He was suddenly unhappy that she was wearing only a shirt in front of the guards, so he handed her a pair of his black drawstring pants.

  “YAC…as in yeast artificial chromosomes?” Gimlet was not surprised at this bit of news. She’d known immediately he was a clone soldier, with the melting combination of a Magic Mike and Thor. She accepted his offer of what looked like pajama pants, although they were rather long on her, and needed to be rolled up. Chad was a good head taller than Gimlet.

  “Yes, as in yeast artificial chromosomes, the package for genetic assembly, and the dearest baby of the WME former human cloning program. Does that surprise you, Gimlet Nampeyo?” Chad could not take his eyes off of her. She was the type of woman who made draw-string pants and a Hawaiian shirt look breathtaking.

  He noticed her bare feet and handed her a pair of red flip-flops, though they were too large. They were going for the tourist look; if they wanted to get away from the guards and over to Lanai they’d need the tourist look. Once at Lanai, they had to pick up his clone mate Jason at the R&R, with or without a completely regenerated hand, and contact Dorian about the whole clone soldier killing thing. Chad wanted to delay the shipment for several days to come up with a better escape plan for his clone family.

  But things had become slowed by their unaccounted for reaction to each other. He was as shocked as she was. It was like they had known each other all their lives, were just meant to be a pair. Even their Hawaiian shirts matched; they had that same red background with giant white hibiscus all over, the classic aloha shirt.

  “No, I’m not surprised. I mean, I knew right away you were a clone soldier. But you hardly have a serial killer mentality. What set are you from? Where were you produced?” Gimlet was immediately sorry for her tactless wording. Her dad, Dorian was also a clone, and technically speaking she was half clone, if that was how the geneticists defined it.

  “I was produced, as you so tactfully word it, at Pyongyang, in the only facility not destroyed by your mother. It was a small experimental facility geared towards designer clone production. We were to be sold as inducible security units.” Chad had not meant to get down to business so quickly. He wanted to understand more about Gimlet first, spend months exploring every single inch of her body. Even now he made sure they were always touching. He never wanted to not be touching her. He did not understand how she could be the daughter of his worst enemy, Dina Nampeyo.

  Of course, Gimlet read his thoughts.

  “I don’t share my mother’s obsession, Chad. Even Dad is tired of Mom’s single-minded clone soldier elimination mission. We both wish she’d let it go. She just can’t seem to forgive the death of her father, my grandfather Jordan Nampeyo, at the hands of the clone soldiers. I think even he would be ashamed of her. From what I’ve seen, some of the clone soldiers are no longer even dangerous. I mean, you seem different.” Gimlet smiled and blushed.

  “Yes, I am different, Gimlet Nampeyo. And so are my twenty remaining family members your mother purchased from Leo Songtain; that’s twenty-one, including me, after one died from our failed attempt to hijack Roxanne Smoot’s rig,” Chad said, while getting dressed.

  “What happened to the last one? Was he or she captured?” Gimlet asked.

  “Roxanne’s co-pilot, that huge dog bit his arm off. He bled to death in the tunnel before we could get him to a regen unit,” Chad replied.

  “It’s good you didn’t get into Roxanne’s control cab. It’s security rigged, you know. If anyone enters without a security pass, the WME initiates a satellite signal and the section is either sonic blasted, or ocean purged. It’s their ultimate security control procedure. If your guy had gotten in, you’d all be dead. Are there others besides your group?” Gimlet asked.

  “No, just my original set; we’re made as triplets, identical triplets. The rest are from different sets, but are still family. We were made as inducible security units, unlike the others.” Chad packed his duffle, gunned, and prepared to leave.

  “How was that done?” Gimlet asked as she buttoned her shirt.

  “The Koreans tried some new gene inserts into our chromosomes, a set of slice and splice inserts at the germ line level, made to grade the expression of certain proteins. We have what you’d call an inducible promoter for what they commonly label the serial killer gene set, the sk genes. I’m what the scientists would refer to as an inducible sk+/sk+,” Chad said as he cracked the door and checked for guards.

  “It sounds fancy. What was the final purpose?”

  “The Koreans wanted to see if they could control the protein expression in our case, and thus control when we would be killers, when those genes would be expressed or remain silent. They thought it would make us more marketable as security units on the Blacks.” Chad went to the door to listen for guards, then walked back to Gimlet and sat down next to her, handing her a sonic and several knives.

  “How did you find all this out? I mean, Dad told me where he was made on Andros, they didn’t tell him anything. He was kept in a cell his whole life, until he was eighteen and Mom helped him escape,” Gimlet said as she stuffed the knives into her pants. She held the sonic in her left hand.

  “When my group escaped from the lab, I took the lab logs with me; I downloaded them to memory. I guess you could say we have total recall, or maybe a photographic memory is a better way to describe it.” Chad kissed her hand.

  “When did all this happen? I’ve never heard about it, and we have a fabulous archive at Donner Pass,” Gimlet asked, as she kissed Chad on the neck. If they were not careful they’d be delayed again.

  “It was back when the pumps shut down and our facility was destroyed by the rising ocean waters. We were in a back area near an exit portal. The portal was always locked but I guess the water caused a malfunction. Then all the exits unlocked and we ran out. We hid in Tokyo near the port for a long time, until we caught a freighter to South America. From there, we just sort of hitched rides, until we got as far away as we could from the controllers. We were a pretty sad lot at first, twenty-two, ten-year-old clones, with no outside experience. It’s amazing we didn’t all die.” Chad took Gimlet’s face in his hands and kissed it.

  Gimlet sat back, like she had suddenly remembered something, and said, “I know what happened, Chad. I remember Dad told me he unlocked your cells so you wouldn’t all drown. I remember him telling me about that. He hacked a sat-controller and released the locking controls. He said I should never tell Mom because she’d be furious if she knew he’d saved you. But, how did you control your killer instincts once you escaped?” Gimlet asked. She had now disentangled herself from Chad, needing to more clearly understand his story.

  “It took several weeks for me to make up the list of enhancers using those science logs, things we now have to avoid eating so those killer genes are not turned on. But, we didn’t need to worry on Deceit Island. Most of the substances that turned on our serial killer gene sets were designer drugs, available only on the lab pharma markets and not found in the normal environment. But some things are close enough, like one toxin found in some plants. We have to avoid eating raw rhubarb.”

  Chad got up and opened the door of his office again, glancing out into the hallway. A group of guards found the shackled victim in Gimlet’s cell, and had gathered outside of Chad’s office to discuss who would let the boss know the prisoner had escaped. He turned back to her, told her to put her hands behind her, grabbed a length of rope, and tied Gimlet’s arms loosely behind her back. “Look terrified,” he instructed. Chad opened the door and barked at the guards.

  “I have her, you morons. Get back to your stations. I’ll be keeping her with me
for my own personal use, as you don’t seem able to guard an unarmed scrawny female.” He slammed the door and untied her. Gimlet let out a small terrified scream to sound convincing to the guards. The weasel-faced guard was actually sorry for her. After the guards slinked off Gimlet asked,

  “What made you decide on Deceit? That’s pretty desolate, isn’t it?” Gimlet referred to the island where Chad’s set of clones had been found and captured by Leo Songtain’s security forces.

  “It was because it was so desolate. We never thought anyone would look for us there. It’s about as far as you can go to get away from the WME and from your rebels, especially from your mother. We just wanted to be left alone; we wanted to exist and not be hunted or sold into slavery at the clone auctions like the others. But your mother has made it so economically attractive; now CEOs like Leo Songtain have set a bounty for clones. Where does she get that kind of wealth, Gimlet Nampeyo?” Chad and Gimlet were sitting on the sofa in his office, drinking Kona coffee, and munching on dinner food balls du jour.

  She thought it was nice and warm, and that she would never want to leave this room. But, she knew her mom would go ballistic when she found out her only daughter was very definitely going to be seeing a lot of this clone soldier, for a very long time. That thought made Chad smile. Gimlet thought he had a fabulous smile.

  “You can call me just Gimlet. Dad gets the gold vouchers for Mom’s missions. He hacks into CEO accounts using the satellites; sat-hacks, we call them. He takes small amounts of gold vouchers from many different accounts at a time. It’s how the rebels have managed to exist so far. We couldn’t exist without Dad’s special abilities. But he usually only does it for crucial things, like rescuing a group of mutants in need of a hiding place, or sending supplies to a rebel base in need of medicines…except when Mom is concerned. He has never been able to refuse her a request. I think he feels guilty about Grandpa Jordan’s death; it’s like he could have prevented it or something. I know it drives him crazy. He takes huge risks to get the gold vouchers to keep up her clone killing crusade. Plus, he is a clone so he doesn’t exactly agree with her philosophy. It’s why I left for University. I couldn’t stand the hypocrisy. I love Mom and Dad, but I don’t plan to go back to the rebels after University. I have other places I call home.”

  “You mean with Eldridge and Roxanne Smoot. Yes, I read that in your profile, how you spent the early part of your life in their rig in, where, New Mexico; is that right, just Gimlet?”

  “Gimlet, call me Gimlet. Yeah, on the haul from Denver to Albuquerque; it was so simple back then. I wish I could go back there. But that’s all gone now. They hovertram everything underground on that route now, using robot drivers. Very few human-driven land tracks remain in existence anymore; it’s too hot for humans. They just have the underwater and underground tunnels now, and Eldridge thinks that will go to robotics pretty soon, too. I don’t know what Roxanne and Eldridge will do at that point. With robot rig haul outsourcing, there won’t be a need for the bubble-stops anymore. Eldridge and Roxanne won’t be able to make a living. Sorry, I’m rambling. Why am I here? Why did you kidnap me?” Gimlet asked.

  “Will you help us, Gimlet? We only have three days before that shipment to your mother arrives in Las Vegas. Your mom will kill off my people if I can’t stop her. It’s why I kidnapped you.

  “Do the pirates know this?”

  “No, they think you’re an exchange for the gold voucher ransom from Leo Songtain, as trade for Roxanne Smoot. They want to use the funds to buy a piece of the R&R market on Lanai, as a hedge for their future security. They know their days are numbered,” Chad said, sipping his coffee.

  “Is this about that worker efficiency protocol?” Gimlet asked.

  “Yes, there’s been word from the Inc., that #3 will go robotic first, as part of some worker productivity protocol. The pirates wanted to snatch Roxanne, but that turned out to be impossible. Jacking a rig is definitely a no go, especially one guarded by a flesh-eating dog. Plus, now you tell me we would have all been vaporized by the tunnel security. So you were our next move, Gimlet. I told them you’d bring a huge ransom stash in exchange for Roxanne.” Chad gave Gimlet an apologetic look.

  “What can I do?” she asked.

  “Can you open that bot-com tattoo with Dorian? Will your dad help us?” Chad asked, looking desperate.

  “I’m not sure he’d go against Mom for twenty-one clone soldiers. Sorry, but that’s how she thinks, and no, I don’t agree with her. I think humans are humans, even if they are cloned.”

  “What about a delay, can he delay the shipment?”

  “Dad could hack into one of those satellites, do a sat-hack, and delay the shipment’s arrival. It would give you some time to come up with a better plan. I will ask him. I think he’ll agree to it.”

  “Great, let’s try it,” Chad replied.

  “But how will you deal with the pirates once they learn you’ve cheated them out of the ransom gold?” Gimlet asked.

  “I was hoping your dad would do one of his magical sat-hacks. Do you think he’d come up with some consolation prize for those pirates?”

  “Maybe, but why can’t they just get the chits legally, maybe do extra work or something?” Gimlet asked.

  “Believe me they tried the temp routine. Everyone has. You’ve seen the ads all over; work on consignment for those supposed eco-political joints. You know, stand on the corner for 14 hours a day, get a million signatures on the petition du jour, and after a month you can make enough to buy a sandwich. I’ve seen those poor gullible workers on the street corners all over the planet. Many end up starving. The #3ers aren’t stupid; they know how the worker stratification system operates,” Chad replied as he checked the door again, for eavesdropping pirates. After he saw that no one remained outside his office, he sat back on the sofa and continued.

  “Now, the pirates have you to trade for those ransom vouchers from Leo Songtain. They think it’s the quickest way for them to get the funds into their pockets. Of course, it would be easier if your dad could just buy the stocks for them, or give them the funds directly.”

  “How would that go down?” Gimlet asked.

  “The chits could be transferred from one of your dad’s account hacks, or rather his sat-hacks, as you call them, for direct transfer into their bubble-stop #3 Arts for the Future account. Well, that’s what they call it.” Chad smiled at Gimlet, who raised an eyebrow and laughed softly. Chad loved the sound of her laugh.

  “A sat-hack on funds is not so simple, Chad; even for transfer to an art account. Dad has to plan it far in advance, and transfer quickly. Long-term chits in accounts draw too much attention. Plus, even Dad has trouble getting stocks. You know only corporate strata can own stocks. It’s part of the social order. The last time someone tried to do that was over in bubble-stop #5, about six years ago, and the WME eliminated them. They opened the water pumps and let the ocean into their zone, or at least the upper part. Dad said the lower levels were saved,” Gimlet replied.

  “I was afraid of that. We never had that problem on Deceit. We just hid out and fended for ourselves. Although I have to say it was primitive at times. This whole stock and social order strata system is new to me. What would you do?” Chad asked.

  “I’m still not sure how Dad can save your family from my mother, Chad. If the shipment is delayed she’ll just wait. But if it gets lost someplace she’ll know Dad did it. She’d just demand that Dad return the clones, and we’d be back to square one. Unless Dad goes against Mom, nothing will work. I’ll just have to ask Dad to come up with his best plan. He’s better at this sort of thing. He knows all sorts of people with very special skills. But, what about the pirates, how will you deal with them? Aren’t they going to be primo pissed off if they’re left empty-handed?” Gimlet asked.

  “Unless we trade you for Roxanne, they get left out. And, I don’t feel like trading you to anyone. I guess someday it will be the revenge of the pirates for me. But for now, I need to stay foc
used on saving my clan,” Chad said.

  “We need to get up top so I can contact Dad. That’s the first step. Maybe he can find a way to make you and your group disappear, and satisfy the pirates at the same time,” Gimlet responded as she got dressed.

  “Does he know anyone who can make a batch of clonies disappear in transit before delivery, in three days? Does he know anyone who could arrange a disappearance? I do know of one individual, but I don’t know how to contact him. His name is…” Chad started, but Gimlet interrupted him.

  “I know someone who can pretty much make anyone disappear, alive or dead.”

  “MICHAEL SEGEV,” they both said, simultaneously.

  11

  MICHAEL SEGEV WAS COINCIDENTALLY ALSO WHO ROXANNE WAS THINKING OF. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and concentrate on the more critical issues at hand.

  She and Rose were in an oxygen bubble transport device, traversing the short distance from the Lanai rig off-load dock to one of the small back portals into bubble- stop #3. They’d arrived in San Fran #1 in record time to find they did not need to have their rig go through a fast bio-check for a return haul, as the checks done at #2 would suffice.

  However, they did need to stow their rig for a yearly Inc. upgrade, required but deducted from their paychecks. Upon arrival they did their fastest rig dock ever, handed the control codes to the Inc. upgrade robotics unit, and hoofed it the half mile to the off-load job control office, running into Morton in the process.

  “Morton. What are you doing here? I thought you’d be hauling west by now,” Roxanne said, out of breath from her half mile run.

  “I’m doing a haul with four of the level I rig-ryder interns, in a training rig of all things. You know we divide the babysitting among all the level III rig-ryders, all summer. We don’t even get paid for it; in fact, we lose chits because we’re required to train the idiot newbies on our own time, losing potential hauls. Plus, I got to buy food for the trainees out of my own pocket,” Morton complained, as he directed the newbies to what the instructors called their training wheels.