Steven Kent - The Clone Republic

“What do we do about Ezer Kri?” Barry asked.

“We should make an example of Ezer Kri,” said Huang, the faces in the monitors nodding their agreement. “Blast the planet until nothing is left. We cannot show any weakness in this situation.”

Admiral Klyber leaned forward, placed his hands palms down on the table and took a deep breath. “If that is the consensus.”

Huang made a weary sigh. “You have other ideas, Admiral Klyber?”

“The Mogat Separatists have already abandoned the planet, and the rest of the population seems sufficiently loyal to the Unified Authority. Governor Yamashiro is a smart politician; he knows he’s in a fix.”

“We cannot afford to appear weak,” Huang said. “If we let Ezer Kri get away with attacking a U.A. ship, other planets will follow.”

“Of course,” Klyber said. “But we have already agreed that the attacking ships did not launch from Ezer Kri. Destroy the planet now, and you will only kill innocents. What kind of lesson is that?”

“And your suggestion?” asked the Committee member.

“Once we have captured the people responsible for the attacks, we return them to Ezer Kri for public trial and execution on their own home planet.”

“We’ll look like fools if they get off,” said Huang.

“Rest assured,” Klyber said, “these terrorists will be found guilty. We will see to it.”

“Found guilty on their home planet; I like it,” said the Committee member.

“Absalom Barry is a capable officer,” Admiral Klyber said, as we walked back across the empty lobby toward his office. “He lacks vision, but he runs an efficient fleet. When I was transferred to Scutum-Crux, I put in a request for him.”

I had not asked about Barry. I never asked one superior officer about another; such inquiries inevitably came back to haunt you.

We entered a short hall that led to Klyber’s office—a surprisingly small room with a shielded-glass wall overlooking the rear of the Kamehameha . The galaxy seemed to start just behind the admiral’s desk. While trying to speak with him, I constantly found myself distracted by the view of Ezer Kri or a passing frigate. His desk faced away from that observation wall, and, disciplined as he was, I doubted that the admiral turned back to look out often.

“Please, sit down,” Klyber said. As he spoke, he picked up a folder that was on his desk. He studied it for a moment, then looked at me. “Our work on Ezer Kri is just about finished. I’ll be glad to leave.”

I said nothing.

“Corporal Harris, we’re going to take on an important visitor over the next few days. The secretary of the Navy will be joining us. He has a mission he would like to conduct. In order for Huang’s mission to succeed, we will need to draw upon your particular abilities.”

“Sir?” I said, sounding foolish.

Klyber took a deep breath and leaned forward on his desk, his gray eyes staring straight into mine. “You grew up in an orphanage, Corporal?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What did they tell you about the cloning process?”

Just hearing an admiral mention the word “clone” left me dizzy. I knew he had not brought me there for a casual chat. I felt a prickling sensation on my back and arms. Clenching the arms of my chair, I felt nervous, genuinely nervous.

“The teachers never discussed cloning,” I said. “I heard rumors; we talked about it when the teachers weren’t around.”

Without releasing me from that intense stare, Klyber leaned back in his chair again. He picked up a pen in his right hand and tapped it against the palm of his left. “Tell me about the rumors.”

I pried my eyes from his for a moment and stared out through the viewport behind him. I could see Ezer Kri, a blue-and-green globe with patches of clouds. I could see a frigate off in the distance. Far off in space, I could see the star that was the system’s sun. “They never know they are clones,” I said, fighting to take control of my emotions. I was not a clone. I had nothing to fear. “They can’t see it. Two clones can stand side by side looking into the same mirror and not see that they look alike.” I knew that—I saw it every day.

Klyber’s mouth formed an amused smile. “Yes, the infamous identity programming—clones don’t know that they are clones. Have you also heard rumors about their dying if they learn the truth?”

“I’ve heard that,” I said.

“They weren’t thinking about the works of Plato when they came up with the death reflex, but a similar idea is found in The Republic . Plato did not want mobility between his classes. I think he was most concerned about ordinary citizens trying to become warriors or rulers. Are you familiar with that?”

We had studied Plato when I was growing up in the orphanage, but I could not think at that moment. I shook my head.

“No? Plato said that if people challenged their station, you were supposed to tell them that they were made yesterday, and all that they knew was just a dream. Sounds ridiculous.

It sounds a bit like the death reflex. Plato thought you could control the masses by stripping them of all that they knew with a little lie…Plato’s lie.

“The Senate wanted something a little stranger. If clones saw through the lie, the Senate wanted them dead. Putting guns in the hands of a synthetic army scared them. They wanted to make sure they could shut the synthetics down if they ever saw through the lie. I was against it. A mere scrap of neural programming seems like thin protection against a danger that could potentially wipe out our entire defense. The Senate debated it in an open session.

“The hardliners won out, of course. The majority argued that renegade clones would be the greatest threat to the Republic, and they had a point. They said that once the clones realized they were not human, there would be no reason for them not to rise up. Fear of the warrior class goes all the way back to Plato, himself.

“What else do you know about clones, Corporal Harris?”

His questions were torture. “How do they die?” I asked. I could not remember my mouth ever feeling so dry.

“What kills them?” Admiral Klyber gave me a benevolent smile. “A hormone is released into their bloodstream. It stops their hearts. It’s supposed to be fast and painless.

“Do you know why Congress is afraid of its own cloned soldiers?” Klyber asked. The humor left his smile, and his gaze bored into me.

“No, sir. I don’t.” By then I felt more than dizzy; my stomach had turned. Arguments took place in my head as I considered the evidence that proved my humanity, then shot it down with questions about clone programming. I never knew my parents. Did that make me a clone?

“No, not because of a mutiny…because of me,” Klyber said.

“When I was a young lieutenant, I oversaw the creation of a special generation of cloned soldiers. It was done during the troubled times, Corporal Harris. Our first explorations into the central region of the galaxy ended in disaster. A fleet of explorer ships simply vanished, and everyone feared the worst. That was the only time I can ever remember when the politicians stopped talking about expansion and colonizing the galaxy.”

The words “central region” seeped through my whirling thoughts. I focused on them, considered them. “Were you stationed with the GC Fleet, sir?” I asked.

“No,” Klyber said, putting up a hand to stop me. “I was safe on Earth, a recent graduate from Annapolis, with a promising career and some highly placed friends. My father was on the Linear Committee, Harris. I had guardian angels who kept me safe and put me on the fast track. I was assigned to oversee a special project. It was important that Congress not get wind of the project, or the Senate would have canned it. My father knew about the project, of course, but he was the only member of the Linear Committee who did.