Steven Kent - The Clone Republic

Turning to look at Klyber, Bill Hawkins fell silent. Everyone on the floor became silent. I could sense their fear.

“The mission of this body is to represent the people. When representatives take it upon themselves to exceed their mission, they endanger the institution itself,” Klyber said.

“And now, Congressman Hughes, if there are no more questions”—Klyber looked all around the floor, warning off anyone with the nerve to challenge him—“I suggest you propose a motion to recognize Lieutenant Harris’s gallant service and dismiss him.”

“I quite agree,” said Lund, the leader of the Loyal Opposition. With Admiral Klyber watching, Hughes took an open vote.

Across the floor, Bill Hawkins’s delegation exited the chamber. Ten minutes later, when Hughes tallied the vote, he noted that Hawkins abstained. The rest of the House, even the representatives from Olympus Kri, voted for my commendation.

I later found out that some of Nester Smart’s allies closed the session to the media. They did not know what Hughes and his camp had planned, but they did not trust the honorable congressman from Olympus Kri. Closing the session, however, did not prevent leaks.

When I returned to the Navy base, I noticed a difference in the way the sailors responded to me. The evening I arrived, they clamored to meet me and shake my hand. Earlier that morning, as I rushed to meet Nester Smart, they couldn’t wait to shake my hand and wish me luck. After the hearing, these same men took long furtive glances at me, ducking their heads and pretending to stare at the ground when I looked in their direction. They did not seem interested in speaking. When I approached two of my drinking buddies from the night before, they said they had business to attend to and walked away.

I went to the barracks to change out of my formals. I did not know how long I would remain in Washington, DC, or where HQ might transfer me. The only thing I knew was that I was no longer assigned to the Kamehameha .

When I checked my mediaLink shades, however, I found three official communiqués for Lieutenant Harris and one letter addressed to Wayson Harris. I read the letter first.

Congratulations, Wayson. You’re a hero! I hear people talking about you at work. Nobody believes me when I tell them that you and I dated in Hawaii.

Speaking of Hawaii, it’s been months, and I have not heard from you. Jennifer says that you are doing well. Vince tells her about you in his letters.

I am sorry that I was not able to say good-bye in Hawaii. I went by the hospital before I left. I think about you a lot. I had a very fun time and hope you did, too.

Please write soon, Kasara

I did not write to Kasara from the hospital. With all of the excitement about Lector and the invasion of Little Man, I mostly forgot about her. Now that I saw the message from her, my memory came back with a rush of emotion. Funny. I didn’t think she meant much to me, but I felt lonely when I thought about her. Nostalgia? Was it my heart or my testicles?

The first of the official communiqués was my transfer. I had been assigned to serve under Bryce Klyber’s command on a ship called the Doctrinaire . Curiously, the Doctrinaire was not attached to a fleet. I was to report for duty in three days but had no idea where to go.

The idea of serving under Klyber again had great appeal. I had not gotten a chance to thank him for rescuing me in the House. He had slipped out the moment the vote was finished.

The second message was from Vince Lee.

Harris, You are a Liberator! Oh my God, how disgusting! News travels fast from closed sessions. And they thought your kind were dead, ha-ha!

Hope all is well, Second Lieutenant Vince Lee

Only an hour had passed since I had left the House. Did he hear about the entire session, or was my being a Liberator the only leak?

The third message came from Aleg Oberland, the teacher who ran the Tactical Simulations Center at the orphanage. It had been nearly two years since my last visit with him. Back then he had told me that my career would be set if I caught Klyber’s eye.

Oberland’s message was shortest of all—“Contact me.”

At the end of his message was a command button that said “Direct Reply.” Oberland appeared on the screen. “Wayson,” he said, “are you okay?”

“You heard about it, too?” I asked.

He stared into the screen. “I’m in DC,” Oberland said. “Does a busy Liberator like you have time for lunch?”

We met in a diner near Union Station. Oberland arrived before me. When I stepped through the door, I saw him waving from a booth.

“How are you feeling?” Oberland asked as he climbed out of his booth and shook my hand. He looked tired and worried. He looked into my eyes too long and too thoughtfully. He reminded me of someone visiting a friend with a fatal disease.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Took a bit of a beating in the House, but I guess I should have expected that.”

Oberland continued to stare at me as if he expected me to collapse on the spot. “Ever since Little Man, you’re all anybody ever wants to talk about back at #553. I’ve been following the Kamehameha on the mediaLink. Ezer Kri was big news. So was Hubble!”

A waitress rolled up to our booth. I ordered a sandwich and a salad. Oberland only ordered a salad.

“I just about wrote you off when I found out you were sent to Little Man. You’ve been out to the edge of the galaxy.”

“I just about wrote myself off on Little Man,” I admitted.

“I came in last night,” Oberland said. “What happened in there? I mean, I know you received a unanimous vote of commendation.”

The waitress returned with our food, and we started eating. Picking at his salad, Oberland said, “The reports say there were several Liberators on Little Man.”

“Four of us,” I said, around a mouthful of sandwich.

“There was me, Lector…”

“Lector?” Oberland asked.

“Booth Lector. He was transferred to the Kamehameha a few weeks before we shipped off to Little Man.”

“I know the name, Wayson,” Oberland said. “I didn’t know he was still alive.”

“He’s not,” I said. “He died on Little Man. So did two other Liberators.”

“Let me guess…Clearance Marshall and Tony Saul,” Oberland said. “I finished my career on New Prague. I got there three weeks after the massacre. They cleaned up most of the bodies before I arrived, but I still found fingers and teeth on the ground. The first team on the scene cleared out the big stuff, the bodies.

“The Senate launched a full investigation into why so many civilians were killed. I conducted the Army investigation. We found out what went wrong. It was a platoon of Liberators—Lector’s platoon. They destroyed an entire town, then they destroyed the next town and the town after that. By the time they finished, thirty thousand civilians had died. And it wasn’t like they blew them up with a big bomb, either. I don’t know why Congress outlawed Liberators, but I can tell you why I would. The people they killed on New Prague…they slaughtered them one at a time.” Oberland pushed the rest of his salad away on his plate and shook his head. “I try hard not to think about New Prague.”

“Must have been bad,” I said, not knowing what else to say. They didn’t teach us the details of that particular massacre in class. All we’d ever heard about was the number of victims. I wanted to ask how a single platoon managed to kill thirty thousand people in a single day; but looking at Oberland’s grim expression, I decided to change the subject.