by R J Johnson
“I am.” Emeline said. “Seems to me, all we have to do is get some explosives into the command center of this Dreadnaught. We set those off, the professor and his wife won’t have this ship to fight their damn war.”
“Seems easy enough,” the clone replied. “But where are we gonna get the explosives?”
Emeline pointed to the flat disc on Emmy’s neck. “They’ve already brought them in there for us.”
Emmy smiled as the plan she had in mind dawned on her, “Oh, that’s good and devious, I like it.”
“We’ll need to find their armory,” she said, searching for the destination on the map, finding it on the second level. “We get there and I’m betting we’ll find all the explosives we need.”
Emeline programmed the destination into the lift and then looked at her clone expectantly.
“Well? This plan don’t work without you.”
Her clone hopped into the lift and nudged her lightly on the arm. “Thanks.”
Emeline watched the door to the lift slide shut, praying for a bit of good luck for a change.
After all, didn’t they deserve some by now?
Chapter Fifty-Five
Smoke and Mirrors
Meade angrily slammed the display to his armbar shut. He couldn’t get a signal through to his allies back on Mars. They either were too far away or too involved with the rebellion to get to Venus in time.
His only hope lay in Palmetto’s hands.
He briefly considered contacting Sarah again, but ruled that out. She’d made it clear her ship had duties during the treaty renewal ceremony that couldn’t be avoided. That was a card he would only pull as an absolute last resort. Besides, she had risked enough for him for now.
What he really needed was Emeline. Meade moved to ping her armbar, but it chimed before he could dial.
He opened the display, hoping to see her friendly face pop up in front of him.
It was the professor. Which as far as he was concerned, was not friendly – especially after the man had tried to kill him.
“How are the missions proceeding Mr. Meade?” the professor asked without preamble.
“So we’re gonna avoid talking about you trying to kill me?” Meade asked. “I’m fine by the way.”
“A warning,” the professor waved his hand. “A reminder that you need to behave yourself while accomplishing the tasks I’ve set out for you. Incidentally, how is that going by the way?”
“Running recon on my next target right now,” Meade said, lying through his teeth. He was doing no such thing of course, but the professor didn’t need to know that.
“It’s nice to know you’re still a willing participant,” the professor said. “It’ll make what I have to say next much easier.”
“What’s that?” he asked. “If there’s something you need to say, I suggest you get to it. My target’s on the move.”
The professor tented his fingers, considering his next few words. “You know I can end Ms. Hunan’s life at any time, yes?”
“That’s been the sword hanging over our heads the last few days, yes,” Meade answered, feeling impatient.
“Ms. Huanan’s little investigation into the generational ships was a bad idea,” the professor said tutting at him. “I had my people place her in stasis on one of the dreadnaughts that’s heading for a system 26 light years away. The mission has already begun. The ship is in orbit. There’s nothing that can stop the ship from leaving the system.”
Meade felt his blood run cold. After all he had been through, the professor was going back on his word.
The professor watched Meade’s face, enjoying his pain. “I assure you, she’ll want for nothing on her voyage.”
“You’re lying,” Meade said through gritted teeth. “You still need me to kill those people. You know I won’t do that if she’s gone.”
“It’s too late for all that,” the professor said gently. “Emeline’s curiosity killed the cat.”
“Why?” Meade finally managed through the rage. “Why do this?”
“Because of what I can offer you instead,” the fat man leaned forward, a light shining on his balding head, a few wisps of hair, playing across his scalp. “The dreadnaughts are finally under my control. I don’t need to threaten you any longer. As it turned out, you gave me all I needed when you assassinated Mr. Mercer.”
Meade couldn’t move. He couldn’t even think. The rage had him paralyzed.
The smile reappeared across the professor’s face. “That ‘power surge’ you caused created a panic at the highest levels of Coalition intelligence. Mercer’s clone is perfectly placed to infect and replace all the targets on your list and I have no need for your help any longer.”
Meade looked up, staring the professor in the eye with every ounce of hatred he could muster. “And then?”
“And then I take the Creatives deemed worthy over the years and spread humanity through the cosmos,” the professor said, his eyes gleaming. “Only the calamity of war can cull the worst of the worst here in Sol. Perhaps the ones who survive will be able to rise triumphant.”
“People working together in peace is better for business,” Meade replied waving around at the city around them. “This city is the very definition of what can be built if the two powers cooperate.”
“Smoke and mirrors,” the professor said, snorting. “As fake as that hotel lobby you walked into. They show you want you want to see, nothing more, nothing less. I was able to ingratiate myself on both sides using graft and corruption to build the three dreadnaughts under the Consortium and Coalition’s noses.”
The professor leaned forward sneering at Meade. “Both hyperpowers belong on the ash heap of history. Tell me you disagree.”
Meade didn’t answer.
“My offer to you is simple,” the professor continued. “Become a witness to the ceremony and humanity’s next step into history. No need for you to kill anyone else. I release you from your obligation. It doesn’t matter anyway, Emeline will never return to the system again.”
Meade felt his face flush and that’s when he became mad.
“Lotsa people thought they had me on the ropes before have come to regret it,” he said coldly. “I’ve got a good feeling you’re about to become one of ‘em.”
He snapped his armbar shut cutting off the connection to the professor.
Giving himself a moment to calm down, he re-opened the display and pinged the only ally he had left.
The man’s image appeared on his display in an instant.
“Ahh Mr. Meade,” Palmetto said. “I’m so glad to hear from you.”
“Can it Palmetto,” he said, impatient with the man. “You answered my call, so, I’m assuming you got my message.”
“My car will be at your location within three minutes,” the ambassador said quietly. “Don’t disappoint me.”
The display winked out.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Deal? Or No Deal?
With all the bubble-cars floating around the Venusian city, Meade was expecting one of those to come pick him up. So, when he saw Palmetto’s aerolimousine pull up in front of him, it took him a moment realize it was there for him.
He entered the aerolimo, which quickly took off in a sharp bank, flying high above the city. He looked at Palmetto who was dressed in his Ambassador robes and staring at him with two beady eyes.
“Well Mr. Meade?” Palmetto said in an amused tone. “You’re the one who called this meeting.”
Meade eyed the Ambassador sitting across from him and grunted.
“One thing I’ve always admired about you Palmetto,” he began, “is your ability to play the long-game.”
Meade paused, waiting for a reaction on the man’s face. He cleared his throat and looking over at the expansive collection of whiskey on the wall, “And I know how much you like your way of life.”
He leaned forward to grab a bottle and pour himself a much-needed drink, when he was stopped by Palmetto’s hand.
He replaced the whiskey on the wall, and they sat there staring at each other for a moment.
“The disc you gave Gabriella contained an intriguing offer,” Palmetto said, eying him. “But something like that will take trust between you and I.”
“Unfortunately for you, I’m about out on trust,” Meade replied. “’Specially for a guy like you.”
“I know it can be difficult,” Palmetto said. “Given our… history.”
“You tried having me killed several times over the last few months.”
“Business,” Palmetto waved his hand in the air. “You lead a rebellion against the Coalition after all.”
“A government who spies on its people and pays them subsistence wages is no government of mine,” Meade shot back. “The Coalition may be the lesser of two evils, but you ain’t exactly the guy I want in charge of my life.”
“I’m flattered,” Palmetto chuckled. “That’s why I think it’s so odd that you ask me to trust you now. If what you’re telling me of the professor’s plan is true, then I don’t see how the Coalition and Consortium can avoid war.”
“Then let’s get ‘em playing a different game,” Meade said. “All these diplomats are here to renew the treaty, right?”
“And celebrate the launching of the three new generational ships heading for Arcturus,” Palmetto said, nodding. “Both sides have heavily invested in the success of the mission.”
“You’ve seen the specs on those ships,” Meade said. “They’ll be unstoppable once they launch.”
“Perhaps not,” Palmetto said. “We have an ally on-board one of the ships.”
“Emeline?” he asked, looking confused. “The professor said she was in stasis.”
“It appears as if his intelligence was not as good as mine,” Palmetto said, grinning.
The ambassador opened his armbar and pass a video file over to his own. He opened it to see Emeline kicking ass in a ship.
The strange thing, there seemed to be two Emelines fighting side-by-side. They were both kicking ass as they moved through the corridors of the professor’s ship.
“Can we get a message through to her?” he asked, watching the video feed.
“It’s a one-way transmission I’m afraid,” Palmetto said, snapping his armbar shut.
“Gabriella?” Meade asked.
“She’s a valuable ally,” he said.
“You’re not kidding,” Meade said, remembering how she had helped helped him.
“From what we can gather, Ms. Hunan is heading for the central command center on board that vessel where she plans on exploding a bomb inside a heavily armored section of the ship.”
“Too much armor on the inside so she’s going to attack from the outside,” Meade realized. “Ahh… clever.”
“It’s a plan we should consider for the other two generation ships,” Palmetto said. “It’s a risk, but we can insert Gabriella on the other ship. We still need to take care of the one here on San Angeles.”
Palmetto glanced up through the window at the looming spaceship that had taken up position in the center of San Angeles.
“You will need to be the one who boards the third ship.”
Meade shook his head. “Can’t be me. I’ve got to be at the treaty ceremony to watch what’s happening.”
Palmetto scratched his chin, considering. “That could work to our advantage. After the ceremony, you can sneak aboard the ship.”
“Then what?” Meade asked.
“And then blow it up,” Palmetto said with a wave of his hand. “Figure out how later. You’ve gotten out of tight situations before. What’s so different about this?”
“That’s not advice Palmetto,” he groused. “And it’s definitely not a plan.”
“I thought you were used to that sort of thing,” Palmetto said, smirking at him.
Meade rolled his eyes but refused to be baited. “Fine, it’s not the dumbest idea I’ve heard. But I’ve got a few thoughts on how we can improve it. But we have to work together. Can you do that Palmetto?”
He extended his hand out to the Ambassador, half-expecting the man to spit on it and dump him out of the aerolimo. Instead, he was surprised when Palmetto took his hand, firmly shaking it.
“Let’s take this son-of-a-bitch down,” Palmetto said.
Meade grinned.
“Good. Now, I have an idea about the ceremony that I think you can help with, but we’ll have to work together…”
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Double Trouble
Emeline and her clone entered the lab cautiously, looking out for any of the professor’s security meat puppets.
The lab looked untouched with most of the equipment still put away or wrapped up in boxes.
She moved quickly to a workbench where a series of unfamiliar tools were set out in a row. Emeline picked one, examining it before she saw her clone motion at her from the other side of the room to join her.
“What is it?” she called out.
Emmy ignored her, still typing and groaning in frustration when the console beeped back at her.
She put the tool back down and moved to the other side of the room where stacks of cloning vats were installed along the walls. There were at least a dozen clones, all in various stages of growth.
When she drew closer, she felt her stomach drop when recognized the faces behind the glass.
There, two perfect copies of Kansas Grayborn and Jim Meade were floating in two vats, with various masks and tubes attached to their bodies.
Emeline raised a hand to her face, looking at the familiar faces. It was uncanny.
She moved to her clone who was still trying to open the cloning vat but found herself locked out by the security system.
A tear ran down her clone’s face as she touched the glass on the vat that held Kansas.
“You heard about him?” Emmy asked, not looking back at her.
Emeline nodded.
“This is his chance to live again,” Emmy whispered. “We owe him that much.”
Emeline moved to the console where she tried releasing Kansas. She looked down at the display in frustration and grunted.
“Why isn’t this working?” Emeline asked.
Emmy moved closer to her to see the display and touched a few buttons to bring up a new screen. She shook her head.
“These are coded to the professor or Dr. Hahn. We need one of their handprints to unlock Kansas,” her clone said.
Emeline looked around the lab and then an idea came to her, “Do we though?”
Emmy shook her head, “Where would we even find the DNA?”
“The handprint scanner?” she pointed to it. “They had to use it at some point to get you out right? Maybe there’s some epithelial cells left we can use.”
Emmy grinned and tapped her head, “Not just a hat rack right there.”
“There’s a scanner on the workbench,” Emeline said grinning. “Fire up a cloning vat and get it ready to find a sample.”
“Roger that.”
The two Emelines split up to go about their tasks. The clone hurried over to a fresh cloning vat and began filling it with the saline solution. Emeline used her armbar and switched to a scanning setting. The blue light illuminated the handprint scanner where several traces of DNA showed up.
She collected the samples and brought them back over to the cloning vat. Her clone finished filling it up and then looked at the sample.
“Doesn’t take much does it?”
“It’s enough to change the world. I’d say that’s plenty,” Emeline said.
She fed the samples into the machine, which began to softly hum. The solution in the vat began bubbling and they stepped back.
“How long do you think it’ll take?” Emeline asked her clone.
“No telling,” Emmy said, shrugging. “But, if the professor was able to create me in a few hours, then it shouldn’t take long to get a handprint.”
“In the meantime, let’s get that disc out of your neck,�
� Emeline said.
“I was hoping we’d get to that,” the clone said looking relieved. “It’s a little nerve-wracking to have a bomb strapped to your neck 24/7.”
“Don’t have to tell me,” Emeline replied. “Here, pull up your hair.”
Emmy complied, exposing the small explosive disc embedded at the base of her skull. Emeline connected the spanner to the outside of the disc and engaged the mechanism.
There was a brief hum and then the sound of a CLICK as the nanites released their hold on Emmy’s neck.
Emeline pulled strands of nanites out of several bleedings wounds, wiping the blood away with a small cotton swab.
“Thanks,” Emmy said, sounding relieved. “I feel like a new woman.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” Emeline said, smiling back at her clone.
Emmy cocked her head and a mischievous smile appeared on her face.
“Let’s find out how much explosives they have on-board.”
The pair split up and began searching the cabinets looking for the ordinance the professor and his wife were using to implant on clone’s necks.
Unfortunately, they were coming up empty.
“Maybe they do it in another room?” she asked Emmy.
“I would have remembered. It was there when I woke. It has to be installed here.”
“Maybe it wasn’t really a bomb,” she said. “Maybe it was all psychological. Like you said, feeling something implanted in your neck like that is good enough reason to believe them when they say it’ll explode.”
“There’s got to be another room,” she said. “Maybe that’s the last step before you wake up. That is, a clone matures, you get wheeled in for the bomb surgery and then voila, you wake up with the bomb already in your neck.”
“Maybe we’re in the wrong room,” her clone said. “We don’t exactly have a lot of time to go exploring.”
“Yeah, but that’s the best part of any adventure,” Emeline said, glancing over at the bubbling cloning vat. “I don’t feel like we should leave that thing alone.”