The Clone Redemption (2 page)

The government of the Unified Authority bases its rule on a new manifesto that merges principles from the U.S. Constitution with concepts from Plato's
Republic
. In accordance with Plato's ideals, society is broken into three strata—citizenry, defense, and governance.

With forty self-sustaining colonies across the galaxy, Earth becomes the political center of a new republic. The eastern seaboard of the former United States becomes an ever-growing capital city populated by the political class—families appointed to run the government in perpetuity.

Earth also becomes home to the military class. After some experimentation, the Unified Authority adopts an all-clone conscription model to fulfill its growing need for soldiers. Clone farms euphemistically known as “orphanages” are established around Earth. These orphanages produce more than a million cloned recruits per year.

The military does not commission clone officers. The officer corps is drafted from the ruling class. When the children of politicians are drummed out of school or deemed unsuitable for politics, they are sent to officer-candidate school in Australia.

On October 29, 2452, a date later known as “the new Black Tuesday,” a fleet of scientific exploration ships vanishes in the “galactic eye” region of the Norma Arm.

Fearing an alien attack, the U.A. Senate calls for the creation of the Galactic Central Fleet, a self-broadcasting armada. Work on the Galactic Central Fleet is completed in 2455. The newly christened fleet travels to the Inner Curve, where it vanishes as well.

Having authorized the development of a top secret line of cloned soldiers called “Liberators,” the Linear Committee—the executive branch of the U.A. government—approves sending an invasion force into the Galactic Eye to attack all hostile threats. The Liberators discover a human colony led by Morgan Atkins, a powerful senator who disappeared with the Galactic Central Fleet. The Liberators overthrow the colony, but Atkins and many of his followers escape in G.C. Fleet ships.

Over the next fifty years, a religious cult known as the Morgan Atkins Believers—“Mogats”—spreads across the 180 colonized planets, preaching independence from the Unified Authority government.

Spurred on by the growing Morgan Atkins movement, four of the six galactic arms declare independence from Unified Authority governance in 2510. Two years later, on March 28, the combined forces of the Confederate Arms Treaty Organization and the Morgan Atkins Believers defeat the Earth Fleet and destroy the Broadcast Network, effectively cutting the Earth government off from its loyal colonies and Navy.

Believing they have crippled the Unified Authority, the Mogats turn on their Confederate Arms allies and attempt to take control of the renovated G.C. Fleet. The Confederates escape with fifty self-broadcasting ships and join forces with the Unified Authority, leaving the Mogats with a fleet of over four hundred self-broadcasting ships, the most powerful attack force in the galaxy.

The Unified Authority and the Confederate Arms end hostilities by attacking the Mogat home world, leaving no survivors on the planet.

In 2514, an alien force enters the outer region of the Scutum-Crux Arm, conquering U.A. colonies. As they attack, the aliens wrap their “ion curtain” around the outer atmosphere of a planet, creating a barrier cutting off escape and communications.

In a matter of two years, the aliens spread throughout the galaxy, occupying only planets deemed habitable by U.A. scientists. The Unified Authority loses 178 of its 180 populated planets before making a final stand on New Copenhagen.

During this battle, U.A. scientists unravel the secrets of the aliens' tachyon-based technology, enabling U.A. Marines to win the war. In the aftermath of the invasion, the Unified Authority sends the four self-broadcasting ships of the Japanese Fleet along with twelve thousand Navy SEAL clones to locate and destroy the Avatari home world.

The Unified Authority Congress holds hearings investigating the military's performance during the Avatari invasion. When two generals blame their losses on lack of discipline among their cloned enlisted men, synthetic conscription is abolished, and all remaining clones are transferred to frontier fleets—fleets stranded in deep space since the destruction of the Broadcast Network. The Navy plans to use these fleets in full-combat exercises designed to test new, more powerful ships; but the clones revolt.

After creating their own broadcast network, clones establish the Enlisted Man's Empire, a nation consisting of twenty-three planets and thirteen fleets. As hostilities continue between the Enlisted Man's Empire and the Unified Authority, the Avatari return, attacking planets with a devastating weapon that raises atmospheric temperatures to nine thousand degrees for eighty-three seconds.

The Avatari attack three planets in December 2517—New Copenhagen, a Unified Authority colony; Olympus Kri, an Enlisted Man's colony; and Terraneau, a neutral nation. Working together, the Enlisted Man's Navy and the Earth Fleet successfully evacuate Olympus Kri prior to the attack, but there are no survivors on New Copenhagen, and slightly more than one thousand refugees survive on Terraneau.

“If this is supposed to be our funeral, I'm not impressed,” Chief Petty Officer Robert Humble whispered to the clone standing next to him.

“It's not a funeral. They don't give corpses wine at funerals,” said Edward Kapeliela, who was also a CPO.

“It's an old Kamikaze thing,” said Humble. “These guys are all about tradition.”

“It's not a funeral; it's a farewell. Now will you shut up?”

“Quiet. Both of you,” hissed Emerson Illych, a master chief petty officer and the highest-ranking member of the SEALs.

Yamashiro Yoshi, admiral of the Japanese Fleet, stood behind a table that had been draped with a white tablecloth. On the table sat a ceramic bottle, an ivory-glazed ceramic cylinder, eight inches tall and three inches wide, covered with hand-painted
Kanji
.

Beside the bottle sat a row of thirteen “thimbles.” The SEALs called them “thimbles” because they held no more liquor than you could fit in a thimble. The Japanese called them
ochoko
. The
ochoko
matched the bottle, ivory-colored glaze and covered with
Kanji
symbols.

“What? You don't think you're the guest of honor at your own funeral?” asked Humble.

“Stow it, Humble,” Illych growled. “I want to hear what he's saying.”

“He's speaking in Japanese,” Humble pointed out. “You told us to pretend like we don't understand Japanese.”

Staring straight ahead, Chief Petty Officer Kapeliela said, “Show some respect, the man is trying to honor us.”

Yamashiro filled each of the
ochoko
with sake. Speaking in Japanese, he ordered the SEALs to step forward. Before the ceremony began, another Japanese officer had drilled Illych and his men so that they would recognize the commands.

“This is honoring us? He's giving us a thimbleful of rice wine and speaking in a language he doesn't think we understand. How is this an honor?” asked Humble.

Short and sturdy, Yamashiro stood five-five, making him three inches taller than the diminutive SEAL clones. He had thick arms, a thick neck, a thick chest, and a round gut, all solidly packed together. His senior officers often speculated on whether or not he dyed his coal-colored hair. His eyes were hard and dark, and he barked the order for the twelve SEALs to lift their
ochoko
. He took the thirteenth cup and drank with them.

Once the SEALs had drained their sake, Yamashiro seemed to run out of words. He remained solemn as they replaced their
ochoko
on the table; and then he dismissed them.

Humble asked, “That's it? He's supposed to give us a flag and a sword. We're supposed to read our death poems.”

“You wrote a death poem?” asked Illych.

“I wanted to get into the spirit of the occasion,” said Humble.

Illych laughed, but Humble's complaining offended Chief Petty Officer Kapeliela. Had his neural programming allowed him to swear, he would have strung all the profanity in the English language into a single run-on sentence; but he could not do that. The Unified Authority scientists who created the SEAL clones organized their brains so that they did not have vices. The SEALs did not swear, drink, or smoke. Their selfesteem was so low that they did not approach women, not even prostitutes.

Illych and the SEALs stood at attention as Yamashiro and his officers left the landing bay of the battleship
Onoda
. Once they were gone, Illych gathered his SEALs beside the transport that would launch them on their mission. The transport would not take them down to the planet; but if everything went well, it would bring them back to the ship.

Kapeliela and Humble continued their argument. Humble said, “You did know that was a traditional Kamikaze farewell?”

Kapeliela grunted. “Yeah, I know. Only we're coming back.”

“Maybe. We might think we're coming back, but Yamashiro doesn't,” said Humble.

The rear hatch of the transport ground open, and the SEALs shuffled in. As Illych passed, Humble asked, “Master Chief, do you think we're coming back?” He was not afraid, just curious. The SEALs did not know fear, it was not in their neural programming.

“As long as the fleet doesn't leave us behind,” said Illych. Like all of his men, Illych was nothing if not stoic.

The joking and bickering ended when the hatch closed, and the mission officially began. In action, the SEALs only spoke when they had a real reason.

Every SEAL had the same basic training in stealth, marksmanship, demolitions, close combat, and reconnaissance skills; but each had a specialized skill as well. During the three years since they had left Earth, the SEALs had picked up new areas of specialization. Some had studied engineering, others chemistry or physics, anything that might help when they infiltrated the enemy.

The cargo compartment of the transport was known as the “kettle” because its floor, ceiling, and windowless steel walls combined into a curbed interior. In the shadow-filled confines of the kettle, the SEALs became all but invisible. The dark gray of their complexion made them look sickly in light, but they blended in with the shadows in the dimly lit environs of the transport.

The Japanese called the SEALs
kage no yasha
. It meant “shadow demon.” The name referenced both their ability to vanish in the darkness and also the inhumanity of their faces. Their noses turned up so sharply they might have been snouts. Each had a thick ridge of bone forming a protruding brow over his tiny dark eyes. They were short and wiry, with entirely bald heads and clawlike fingers that could slice through skin.

Unlike other synthetics, the SEALs knew that they were clones. They knew they were ugly and were deeply ashamed of it. The Japanese made jokes about their having the faces of bats or dragons or demons. Not wanting to embarrass the Japanese, the SEALs pretended not to understand them; but in their hearts, they agreed.

“Board your caskets,” Illych told his men.

The
caskets
were “stealth infiltration pods” or “S.I.P.s,” coffin-sized people-fliers designed to evade all known forms of detection. Six feet long and three feet wide, S.I.P.s could travel millions of miles in an hour. They scanned for radar, sonar, and laser detection and camouflaged their own footprint. They did not have guns or steering controls. SEALs did not pilot their caskets, they went along for the ride. Trapped in tubes so tight they could do no more than breathe, the SEALs did not become claustrophobic. It was not in their programming.

Seemingly designed to make passengers uncomfortable, the cargo pit of the S.I.P. lacked so much as a shred of padding, had no lights, and no communications gear. The S.I.P. was designed for ten-minute flights and nothing longer. Natural-borns could not tolerate even ten minutes in an S.I.P., but it never occurred to Illych and his SEALs that their S.I.P.s were uncomfortable.

The launching device at the back of the transport did not simply release the pods into space; it fired them like a high-powered rifle using supermagnetism. Once launched, the pod controlled the flight itself, using a field-resonance engine that operated as silently as a gentle breeze and as untrackably as one particular raindrop in a storm.

Field-resonance engines offered one other advantage. In theory, overcharging the engine of an S.I.P. triggered a reactive explosion that would measure in the millions of megatons. These were more than bombs; they were planet colliders.

A team of technicians opened the pods and the SEALs climbed into their caskets without hesitation. Once the technicians closed the pod doors, dry gel oozed in around the SEALs to protect them against the stresses of extreme acceleration and deceleration.

Working as quickly as they could, technicians dressed in soft-shelled armor lifted the S.I.P.s into place. The launching device had a revolving carriage with chambers for twelve caskets that the techs loaded like bullets.

The transport had been specially equipped with a stealth generator. Sitting only five hundred thousand miles outside the planet's atmosphere, cloaked by the generator, the little ship was invisible, even to the Japanese Fleet. The pilot purged the air from the kettle, then he shut off the engines and all of the lights as he opened the rear hatch. This was the mission's most vulnerable moment. With the hatch open, and the S.I.P.s in place, the stealth generator could no longer hide the transport.