The Clone Redemption

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

We loaded men and guns onto the transports as pilots boarded their fighters. In another minute, our ships would enter the broadcast system, and the invasion would begin. We’d emptied every corner of the Enlisted Man’s Empire. Every working ship would either escort barges or join the invasion.

One thousand two hundred thirty-six ships now prepared to enter Earth space. We had sixty-eight fighter carriers and two hundred battleships. We had Tomcats, Phantoms, and Harriers by the hundreds. Our landing force included one thousand helicopter gunships and nearly ten thousand transports, which we would use to deploy our three million Marines.

We had an overwhelming force. Why did I not feel confident?

When Freeman came to see me, he wore his armor and carried his go-pack. He had a sniper rifle, an M27, laser and particle-beam weapons, and grenades. Strong, smart, and a masterful assassin, he could pulverize men with his fists or snipe at them from two miles away. He knew how to set charges and hack into computer systems. Having Freeman on our side was reason enough to feel positive. Ray Freeman could tip battles and win wars.

“I ran into Scott Mars. He says he’s going to pray for us,” I said.

Freeman certainly heard me, but he did not respond. He stepped into my billet, a seven-foot giant as wide around the chest as a wheelbarrow, with ebony skin and scars on his scalp. The improbably wide sleeves of his armor hid the muscles in his arms.

“I told him to keep his prayers and give us fighters with U.A. torpedoes.”

Freeman asked, “You go to tell him good-bye?”

“Something like that,” I said.

Freeman placed his little two-way communicator on my desk. “We need to warn Sweetwater and Breeze about the invasion.”

“Warn them? Ray, they aren’t people. They’re software. It’s like kissing your bunk good-bye. You might have had some good times together, but that doesn’t make it human.”

That sounds a lot like the crap that natural-borns say about clones, I thought to myself. I said, “Let’s give them a call.”

Freeman placed the communicator on the desk for me to handle the security codes. I felt the weight of his eyes on my neck and the weight of my words on my conscience.

Living, breathing men would die today. I might die. I had somehow convinced myself that I did not have time to worry about virtual people. I was an asshole. William Sweetwater and Arthur Breeze deserved better. If the Unifieds suspected that the scientists had helped us, they would pull the plug on them. Alive or not, they would cease to exist for having helped us …having helped me.

I muttered, “Next you’re going to want me to tuck them in bed,” but it was just for show. Like Freeman, I’d come to think of the scientists as human.

“Hello, Harris. Has your invasion begun?”

The screen did not show an odd pairing of scientists in a lab, it showed a man sitting at an oak desk in a richly furnished office. Instead of Sweetwater’s gravelly voice or Breeze’s low whisper, this man had deep resonance and polish. He had the voice of a politician.

Tobias Andropov, the youngest member of the Linear Committee, sat alone at his desk. He looked into the camera, smirked, and let his head bob in a way that made him seem all the more arrogant.

I felt my gut bounce, and my lips involuntarily formed the word, “speck.” Other than that, I sat in silence.

The camera was aimed at my head and shoulders. Trying to move as little as possible, I reached for my communications console with my right hand. Keeping my eyes on Freeman’s little two-way, on Andropov, I fumbled with the console. If I hit the right buttons, Holman and his aides could listen in.

Trying to act more sure of myself than I felt, I smiled, and said, “I must have the wrong number.”

“We knew they were spying for you. We’ve been watching all along, Harris. You had to know we could see everything they did; we programmed them. We programmed their environment. We had access to their thoughts. Hell, Harris, we didn’t need cameras or bugs to listen in on them; everything they did took place on our computers.”

“Then why did you let them help us?” I asked.

Andropov laughed. “Let them help you? The synthetic brain …Sometimes I think we should have given you clones bigger brains.

“We didn’t let them help you. We let you help us. We wanted you to evacuate those planets.”

“Bullshit,” I said.

Andropov shrugged his shoulders, and said, “Think what you want.”

“We stole your barges.”

“Yes you did, and make no mistake, we will take them back.”

“You attacked our fleet.”

“A ship here or there, mostly fighter carriers. Strategic hits. We wanted to weaken you. We were playing with you, testing your abilities. I must say, your Navy was always pathetic.”

“We have enough ships to …”

Andropov shook his head. “You still don’t understand. Harris, it doesn’t matter how many ships you send here; they’re as good as dead.

“You gave us a scare with that device that you used off New Copenhagen; but it won’t work this time, not unless you plan on destroying the planet.” He paused to smirk.

“New Copenhagen?” I muttered. He must mean Solomon, I thought. He’s talking about the torpedoes Holman fired. Maybe the test had gone better than we thought.

Andropov turned away from the camera, but he continued speaking. He said, “Ah, I see your fleet has arrived. Sixty-eight carriers. Two hundred battleships.” He nodded, turned to face me, and said, “Very impressive.”

Even as he said this, the Klaxons began their howling call to stations.

No longer able to stop myself, I looked down at the communications console and saw that I had not succeeded at powering it up. Holman had not heard a word of the conversation, not that it would have mattered. The gears of the invasion were already in motion.

Looking back at Freeman’s two-way, I said, “Just so you know, it’s personal between us. I’m coming for you.”

He nodded, and said, “Don’t you have a transport to catch?”

I did not know if I signed off or he did. My hand was on the two-way, but I did not remember killing the power. I reached for the communications console, signaled the bridge, and spoke to Captain Cutter. I said, “Better kill the engines. I think they’re expecting us.”