Echo- First Pulse

by C Scott Frank

  The room went black. Stillness swallowed the lab. Even the hum of the air handlers disappeared in the absolute darkness.

  “What happened?” Edward voice appeared out of the shadow.

  “I’m not sure.” The black of the room absorbed every sense. Keri felt trapped in the ink. “Listen, the air handlers are off.”

  “How long do we have if they stay off?” Edward asked.

  “A few hours. Seven, maybe eight.” Emily’s voice held a slight tremor. Keri hoped the younger girl could hold it together.

  “Are we dark side?” Edward’s voice sounded more confident, but it was hard to tell through his accent. “Perhaps we have drained more resources than the batteries can store.”

  “Might be.” Keri knew that couldn’t be the case, but she didn’t want to alarm the team. Not with Lincoln still unaccounted for. “At any rate, the backups should fire on shortly.”

  The seconds dragged on like hours. The sensory deprivation of the dark room threatened to suffocate Keri faster than lack of air.

  “How long do we wait before we try and do something?” Edward asked from the darkness.

  “The backups should be on by now,” Keri admitted. She closed her eyes, despite the darkness, to try and remember the room. Each area had an allotment of flashlights for emergency situations. The lab had one mounted next to the entrance. As she stood to make the trek across the room, a whine pierced the quiet of the room. The lights came on shortly, at half power, leaving the room in a dusky gray.

  “Ah, there we go,” Keri said. “Now—”

  Emily screamed and jumped away as the clone, Michael, opened his eyes and lunged upward, restraints falling to his side. Edward reached forward to restrain him, but the clone threw an elbow around and connected with his temple. Before the unconscious man hit the ground, Michael locked Keri’s wrist in a vice with one hand and grabbed her pistol with the other. Keri threw her remaining hand up in surrender as the clone leveled the weapon at her.

  Keri blinked as she realized his aim was off. The pistol pointed over her shoulder. She turned to find the pilot standing in the doorway with a handgun aimed back at Michael. The pilot looked at Keri over the weapon. Blood dripped down his face as he leaned to one side in the doorway.

  “Stop him,” the pilot said in a raspy voice. “He’s a clone.”

  “Of course I’m a clone,” Michael said. “So are you.”

  “What? No I’m not. I’m a pilot.”

  “What, pilots can’t be clones? Someone take his gun.” Michael looked first to Keri, then to Emily.

  “You don’t want to do that.” The pilot still peered at Keri over his weapon. “I’m the only thing stopping him from killing all of us.”

  “What’s the point in killing everyone here? We’re on a space station, and I can’t very well survive out here on my own,” Michael challenged.

  “Maybe that’s your mission,” the pilot retorted. “You know what they’re doing here, right? They’re trying to cure clones. Fix them. Make them human.”

  “Oh, and you assume that since I’m a clone, I have no desire to be human?”

  “Do you?”

  “I have very little interest in debating philosophy at gunpoint.” Michael’s eyes remained locked on the pilot, unblinking.

  “That’s a valid question though,” Keri joined the discussion, looking at Michael. “Do you?”

  “I’m here, right? Pointing a gun at him and not you.”

  “Maybe you know he’s the only way we’re getting off this thing,” Keri pointed out. “You could simply be cutting off our escape.”

  “Except that he”—Michael stabbed the weapon toward the pilot—“is a clone, and nobody’s escape route.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” The pilot shrugged. “Check the manifests, I’m the pilot.”

  “He’s telling the truth,” Keri confirmed to Michael. “He’s in the logs.”

  “That may be,” Michael conceded. “But I’m telling you, that man is a clone.”

  “Let’s end this, shall we?” The pilot took a step forward, closer to Keri.

  “Emily, report.” She wasn’t sure if the computers were booted back up from the outage—of course. The outage. She swallowed hard as it dawned on her.

  “Report on what?” The pilot asked.

  “The outage,” Keri answered. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

  “I thought it was him.” The pilot stabbed his gun in the air toward Michael.

  “He was here. Unconscious.”

  “He doesn’t look unconscious.”

  Michael sniffed in the pilot’s direction. “Yeah, a foul smell woke me up.”

  “Emily?” Keri prodded.

  “What are you doing? Step away from the display.” The pilot shifted his weight uneasily.

  “I don’t know,” Emily stammered. “The outage. It interrupted the sequence. I can’t tell.” The girl raised her hands over her head, eyeing the pilot warily.

  “Tell what?” The pilot asked again, looking from Emily to Keri to Michael and back.

  “Shall we?” Keri peered into the younger girl’s eyes. It was time for a gambit. She tried to tell her it would be okay with her eyes. Emily nodded. Message received.

  The pilot was still looking at Emily when the flat of Keri’s palm caught him in the neck. He flinched wildly as the wind was sucked from his throat. His gun arm went wide and a shot rang out through the small lab. Keri ducked as the man grabbed for his windpipe, dropping his weapon to the ground. Keri dove for the gun, rolling onto her back in time to see Michael fire two rounds into the pilot’s chest. The man fell to the hard metal floor of the lab, gurgling with every strained breath.

  Keri turned her weapon on the clone still sitting up on the lab table. He dropped his weapon and jumped from the bed and rushed behind Keri. She turned to see Emily crumpled on the floor holding her stomach with labored breathing.

  “We need to move her,” Michael said hurriedly. “She’s going to go into shock. We need to get her flat.”

  Keri helped him reposition Emily onto her back. She pushed her knees up to help release pressure on the wound.

  “Good, that’s perfect,” Michael said. He slipped his hand underneath Emily’s back, feeling up and down. “No exit wound. That’s a problem.”

  “That’s a big problem,” Keri agreed.

  “Okay, we need gauze. That’s perfect, okay now a wrap.” Michael packed the gauze over the wound. “We’ll just wrap this here, that’s good. Keep some pressure there while this settles down. Where’s your doctor? Surely there’s a doctor here?”

  Keri pulled out her comm and keyed it on an open channel. “Damien. Damien come in.”

  Silence.

  “Damien, do you read?”

  “Where was the pilot?” Michael asked.

  “He was in the infirmary, sedated. He shouldn’t have been able to stand, much less come down here with a weapon.”

  “Well, he did. My best guess? Some of us have implants to assist in tissue repair.”

  “Rapid healing?” Keri asked suspiciously. “I’ve heard the theories, but I was never convinced it was possible.”

  “How about an army of human clones bearing down to wipe out the human race?” Michael chuckled. “How’s that for improbable?”

  “Good point,” Keri said, unamused. “Speaking of, how do I know I can trust you? Did the treatment work?”

  “I don’t know anything about your treatment, but for starters, I had a gun and I haven’t pointed it at you yet. Secondly, I’m going to help you win this war.”

  “Forgive me if I’m not reassured.” Keri sized the man up. His odd mix of wise-cracking and bravado made him hard to read.

  “Well, it’ll have to do.” Michael picked the gun up and checked the chamber. “You stay here with her and make sure she doesn’t move. I’m going to go check on your doctor.”

  Without another word, the man walked out of the lab and started down the corridor, gun in hand. Keri waited unti
l the sound of his footsteps faded before she keyed her comm.

  “Lincoln, come in,” she waited. After a moment she continued, “Lincoln, do you read? I’m not sure if you’re getting this, but everything seems to have hit the fan.” Her heart pounded in her throat as she surveyed the room, trying to make sense of it. “Edward is unconscious, Damien isn’t responding, Emily has been shot, and we all saw what happened between you and Zachary.” She paused. What had they done? They never should’ve woken the clone up. “Look, the clone we woke up is out and about. We tried the treatment on him, and it seems to have worked, but I can’t be sure. He might be on the lookout for other threats.”

  The sound of Emily’s ragged breathing tripped her voice. This could be it. Her final words to Lincoln were scarcely more than a whisper. “Be careful.”

  Day 364 - 01:03

  “And you’re sure there’s no sign of him?” The tall man in the black suit peered at the stocky marine with an air of frustration. “Aren’t you guys supposed to be the best of the best?”

  “Sorry sir, but we’ve looked everywhere,” the marine in gray fatigues said impatiently.

  “I’m sure you have. Okay, run along now.” Black Suit peered around the control room of the station, his piercing blue eyes wolfing down every detail. Just shy of a year on this garbage heap, and everything hits the fan. He had trusted Lincoln’s team. Shipped them out here to Ceres with a full budget, and look where that had gotten them. “Can I tell you something? These clones,” he wasn’t speaking to anyone in particular, “are special. Not in a ‘momma’s boy, can do no wrong’ kind of special. They are a special kind of pain to me.

  “We have all these flowery hippies back home rallying for clone rights and whatever nonsense, but out here in the black, this is a real war. We’re not fighting ideas here, we’re in it. In the thick of it. Blood and bone. Meat sacks masquerading as human beings.” He spat on the floor as if the idea itself physically sickened him.

  He turned to look at the other inhabitants of the room, and realized he was alone.

  “Maybe we’re all human meat sacks,” he said to himself. “Either way, I’m going to break them.”

  Black Suit picked his fedora off the console next to him and walked out of the command center. He met the platoon in Airlock 2 and strode to the lieutenant who waited there for him. The soldier opened his mouth to speak, but Black Suit spoke first.

  “I already got the report from the grunt. They didn’t find anything. I got what I needed. Torch the place.”

  “Torch it? With all due respect, this is a two hundred billion dollar station, it’s not like money grows on trees during wartime,” the lieutenant shot back, all business.

  “Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear, sergeant.” He paused, letting the meaning sink in. “But, I believe I told you to do something. If you wanted to make your own decisions, maybe you shouldn’t have joined the military. I’ve gotten everything I need. You have a clone on the loose. Light it up like Unification Day.”

  Before the lieutenant had a chance to say another word, Black Suit stalked through the bulkhead and entered the shuttle.

  Day 381 - 14:17 - Epilogue

  Keri Beck shifted in the cold hospital chair. It had been nearly three weeks since a medivac and a squadron of marines had taken the Frequency team from the Ceres facility. Lincoln had been in a coma for all of that time. Edward had found him unconscious and losing blood on the floor of the station’s infirmary. Emily had pulled through, but she was still recovering in another wing. Edward had stayed with her for a week or so, but was needed to coordinate communications for a new operation in the Pegasus System.

  The past two weeks had been one step shy of torture for what remained of the Frequency team, as they were subjected to an endless supply of questions and cross-examinations. After the clone, Michael Vance, had left to find the doctor, Keri never heard from him again. Edward woke up shortly after the clone disappeared, and Keri sent him to figure out what in the worlds was happening in the rest of the station.

  They had called for evacuation, and two hours later, help had arrived. A team had already been dispatched to investigate the unresponsive shuttle. Group fifteen. If only they’d arrived a day sooner. Hours sooner, even.

  The marines had thoroughly searched every nook and cranny of the station, Michael Vance had not made an appearance. So, the team was grilled until it was clear their story wouldn’t be changing. Zachary Gibbs didn’t have any family remaining, so he was quietly cremated in the medical facility and his ashes were ejected into space. Damien’s parents came to pick up his body and take it back to Earth for the ceremony, shedding tears and cursing the war for taking their precious son.

  The admiralty had ordered all data from the station to be transferred to military facilities for further study, including all logs, and had then unceremoniously torched the station. They would continue the research and implement the Frequency in the best way that they saw fit.

  “At least we had a good time, right?” Lincoln’s hoarse voice came haltingly as he forced his eyes open.

  “Yea, something like that.” Keri leaned closer to him, smiling. “You’re awake. You went through the ringer there.”

  “You should see the other guy,” Lincoln chuckled and grimaced in pain from the effort. “What time is it?”

  “It’s fourteen hundred or so. You’ve been out for two and a half weeks. They torched the station.”

  “Did they now? What about our work?”

  “Confiscated.” Keri thought for a moment. She wanted to say something else, but she kept it to herself.

  “Did you try it?” Lincoln asked pointedly.

  “Yes, but…” Keri trailed off.

  “But what?”

  “We lost power. I’m assuming after the pilot got the best of you. We were in the middle of the test when it happened. We don’t have any way to know if anything got through.”

  “He survived, though?” Lincoln grimaced again as he tried to sit up.

  Keri reached forward to help him. “He probably saved all our lives, Lincoln.”

  “At least Damien didn’t die for nothing.” Lincoln waved his hand, dismissing the idea of sitting up. His whole body ached. Including his heart. His friend was gone, and nothing could change that now. He could only hope that his work had been enough.

  “His work may have changed the tide of the war.” Keri rested a reassuring hand on Lincoln’s shoulder.

  “I thought you weren’t sure if it worked?”

  “I think he—the clone—was already conflicted. I think maybe the Frequency needs an open mind to work. And maybe it doesn’t reprogram the clones, but maybe it gives them a choice. Choice is a powerful thing.”

  “So what happened to it?” Lincoln asked. “The clone you woke up? Where is he?”

  Keri’s face fell. “That’s the thing: we don’t know. I wasn’t fully convinced he was on our side when he first woke up. I think he knew that. After the pilot, he went to look for you and Damien, and never came back.”

  “Sounds like I missed a lot,” Lincoln admitted. “Did he get off the station before they torched it?”

  “I don’t see how. There was a man there, he was… tenacious,” Keri said.

  “I can probably guess. Well, at least we know a little more. We know there’s something we can do. Our time wasn’t wasted.” Lincoln’s voice cracked. He swallowed hard, trying not to blame himself. He should’ve never let Damien go through with his plan. But if he hadn’t they might not know what they do now. Someone had the data, anyway. “Damien’s life wasn’t wasted.”

  “I imagine this is something he’ll be remembered for.” Keri smiled.

  “And he would hate every minute of it,” Lincoln laughed. Keri laughed with him and the two commiserated in the memory of their friend. Finally, Lincoln turned to look at Keri with a serious expression. “Now let’s end this God-forsaken war.”

  Pulse

  Phases

  “Forgive me if I�
�m wrong,” the man in the black suit said. His voice was smooth. Blue eyes sharp as ice picks and twice as cold. “Why are we dumping money into this program if we’re not winning this war?”

  A young man with bright red hair and confusion written on his face was the only other occupant of the reception area. His words stumbled over themselves as they fought their way out of his mouth. “Wh-what do you mean? I—”

  “You don’t have to answer that.” Black Suit looked past the young man. “Mr. Whatever-your-name-is, if you would be so kind as to find your boss for me.”

  “It’s Holden,” the young man said.

  “I don’t care.”

  The young man shuddered. He opened his mouth to say something else, but only stammered for moment—an incoherent waste of breath that served only to deplete precious recycled air. Black Suit crooked an eyebrow, and the gesture broke the other man’s mental loop. Without a word, he retreated behind the stainless steel double doors.

  Black Suit stood in clean, but functional lobby. He found a reception area odd on a lunar research facility. The place wasn’t exactly a tourist destination. Tax dollars hard at work. Tax dollars he’d procured. The thought occurred to him that he didn’t need to be waiting in a reception area—he was in charge—but he wanted to let the team breathe a little. Feel a sense of control, misguided though it may be.

  He walked toward the far wall, careful with his steps. The one-sixth gravity made even simple tasks tedious. Black Suit hated being on Lune.

  Three pictures hung on the wall in front of him in the dim lobby. He scrutinized the artwork. The pictures illustrated the moon in different phases: waxing crescent, full, and waning gibbous. The symbolism was clear. To him, anyway. Mankind had waxed for decades, taking to the stars and exploding with a meteoric rise. At their full, a threat emerged from the darkness on the horizon. A threat no one saw coming.

  This thought unsettled Black Suit. It was his job to see things coming.