Steven Kent - Rogue Clone

When I woke, I lay dressed in my briefs in what appeared to be an operating room. My neck, shoulders, wrists, waist, and ankles were all strapped to the hard, cold surface of a table. There was a strap across my forehead, but this one was loose enough for me to lift my head an inch. I could turn my head enough to see the straps around my wrists. A bright light shined on my face from above. Its glare gave the skin on my arms a bleached look. Beyond the veil of the light, I could not see much of anything.

“I am sorry I could not visit you sooner,” a voice said from beyond my sight. It was a low voice, a voice filled with commiseration. A squat silhouette appeared at the edge of the light. The man stepped closer. Yoshi Yamashiro, the former governor of Ezer Kri, stood beside the table. He wore a dark gray suit and red tie, the uniform of a civilian politician.

“I guess Tuscany didn’t go the way you expected,” I said.

Yamashiro laughed. “I guess not.”

“And you think I had something to do with it?” I asked.

“You make an excellent suspect. Obviously you could not have done it alone.” Yamashiro was a short man, no taller than five-feet-six-inches. He was powerfully built with broad shoulders and a wide chest. He did not look like a man who worked out, but rather like a man who was naturally strong. He was in his fifties or sixties with gray streaks woven into his black hair. The walnut-colored skin of his face was dry but not wrinkled. His eyes were as black as olives. I saw sympathy in his expression.

“Your being a Liberator has caused quite a stir between three uneasy partners,” Yamashiro said. He spoke in a hushed voice. I was pretty sure that we were alone in the room, but that did not mean there were no mikes or cameras.

“The Morgan Atkins Believers consider you a devil. They claim to respect all life forms, but when it comes to Liberator clones, they make an exception. They want you exterminated immediately.

“Sam, your jailor, is a Morgan Atkins Believer. He has offered to kill you himself.”

“He damned near did,” I said, feeling deep aches in my jaw and ribs.

“The Believers are not military minded. They are politically savvy. The military minds come from the Confederate Arms. They say we should torture you, find out how you learned of our plans and what else you might know. After they get what they want, they plan to execute you.”

“How about you?” I asked.

“After we win this war, I think you should go free …provided you explain a few things” said Yamashiro.

“How I boarded this ship?” I asked.

“We know all about that,” Yamashiro said, placing a chair beside the table and sitting down. He pulled a small gold lighter and pack of cigarettes from inside his jacket. “Mind if I smoke?” Before I could answer, he lit a cigarette and replaced everything in his jacket.

I lay on my back, cold in the chilled air of this operating room, watching tendrils of cigarette smoke rise in the light.

“You killed Corporal Jamie Rogers outside of Safe Harbor while he was patrolling the woods. You were alone, and you took his place on the lift that brought his platoon back to the fleet. We know you killed Rogers because he did not report after the mission. We know you were alone because we took a head count on the ship.”

I listened to this and nodded. “I did not know his name.”

“We’ve been able to trace your movements on this ship. You killed Private Derrick Hines for his clothing. Once you had it, you went to a gymnasium on the second deck. Then you went to a laundry facility and stole a uniform belonging to Lieutenant Marcus Cox. You were seen inspecting the wiring in a service hall. When asked about it, you commented that it looked secure.

“We even have a security feed of you on the command deck. You strolled around the bridge twice. A few minutes later, you were captured back in the landing bay. Presumably you were looking for a way off the ship. Does that sound correct?”

“More or less,” I said. I came off sounding much more confident than I felt.

“How did you know we would attack Tuscany?”

“I didn’t,” I said.

“Did you hear people discussing it?”

“Maybe the Unified Authority has a spy on the ship. I came here for revenge, not information.”

“There is no one else on this ship,” a voice said from behind me. I could not see the man, though I thought I recognized the voice. “There are no spies on this ship …well, other than you.”

“General Crowley,” Yamashiro said. He must have meant for this to sound like a greeting, but it sounded more like an announcement.

“Governor Yamashiro,” Crowley said, stepping into view. “I was not aware that you knew Colonel Harris.”

“We met on Ezer Kri,” Yamashiro said.

We had not actually met. I was on Bryce Klyber’s guard detail and escorted the fleet admiral into the capitol building. Yamashiro and I did not speak on that occasion. It seemed unlikely that Yamashiro would remember me from that incident.

“And you took a personal interest in the colonel?” Crowley asked. A tall and lanky man with a snowy-white beard, Crowley looked down at me with an expression that was not entirely unfriendly.

“He was not a colonel at the time, only a corporal,” Yamashiro said.

“Then I have known Colonel Harris even longer than you have,” said Amos Crowley. “He was a mere private when we met. He was fresh out of basic and assigned to an awful planet called Gobi. Harris was promoted from private to corporal a few days after I left. Isn’t that right, Harris?”

I did not say anything. If I could have broken free of the table, I would have happily murdered General Crowley on the spot.

“You must feel very special, Colonel Harris. Here you are, a prisoner of war, and an important man like Governor Yamashiro has chosen to come visit you. I would never have guessed you to have such powerful friends.”

“Governor Yamashiro asked you how you knew about our plan to attack Tuscany.” Crowley said. “I would be interested in hearing your answer as well.”

“I did not know about it,” I repeated. “How could I possibly have known about it? I was in a cell.”

“But somehow, you did,” Crowley said. His voice lost its native jocularity. Now it had an antagonistic edge. “And somehow you managed to communicate that information to the Navy, Colonel. I want to know how. If you do not tell me willingly, I am prepared to force it out of you.”

The truth about torture was that it never failed—the victim will always give in. It was only a matter of time. I could have told Yamashiro or Crowley my secret. I believed Yamashiro when he hinted his intention to protect me and set me free once the war was won. The problem was that his position did not seem so much better than my own.

If I read this situation correctly, the Confederate Navy was suffering from an identity crisis. The boats captured by the Morgan Atkins Believers were taken so long ago that the antiquated ships would have proven worthless in battle.

The Japanese came from Ezer Kri, a planet with several prestigious schools of engineering. The Japanese must have provided the engineering talent needed to update the GC Fleet. To Yamashiro and the refugees of Ezer Kri, this was Hinode Fleet.

The Confederate Arms, with their billions of citizens, and the Mogats, with their millions of members, were willing to tolerate Yamashiro for now. I could hear it in Amos Crowley’s voice. He did not like seeing Yamashiro in this room, did not trust Yamashiro to be alone with me.

Crowley’s loyalties were obvious enough. He joined the Mogats movement and deserted the U.A. Army in 2507, three years before the Confederate Arms declared independence and formed their own government. Clearly he had no connection with the Japanese. As a Mogat, Crowley would want me dead.