B Clones Read online

  Big didn’t blame them for the murders. They had the minds of free humans, inside the bodies of clones. They were considered nothing but property. It was no wonder they hadn’t taken that reality without a fight. The company should have foreseen that outcome.

  Seven of the original dozen had committed suicide by various means. They couldn’t come to terms with waking inside those new bodies. It had been too much for their minds to comprehend. It probably didn’t help that the humans he’d spent time with hadn’t exactly been compassionate toward clones. Big doubted the dozen had been treated any better. It would be even tougher for them to endure intense verbal abuse and lack of empathy, since they’d once been fully human.

  He worried about the female clone he’d just rescued, in that regard. Would she go into shock from learning what had happened to her after her death? She said she wasn’t deeply religious. He hoped she hadn’t been lying.

  He’d read that a portion of the failed clones hadn’t wanted to exist anymore, were literally unable, feeling as if they were an abomination, a betrayal of whatever religion they had believed in. Those failed clones had reasoned they no longer had a soul; that they needed to die, even if it meant taking their own lives.

  The three clones who’d survived past the first month hadn’t been able to withstand all the changes that had taken place since their original deaths. They ceased to speak or interact with the staff tending to them. Months passed as their mental health deteriorated further and further.

  The experiment had been deemed a failure within four months, and once the results were known, a new law had been enacted regarding the manufacturing of clones. All of them were ordered to be blanked of source material memories.

  Clones were reprogrammed during growth to teach them a working knowledge of the world they were being born into. Programed memories were implanted to make them mentally stable and to accept the roles they were created to fill. They understood that they were clones. It was the only existence they knew, and they didn’t expect to be treated with respect or empathy.

  He had interacted with plenty of entertainment models when he’d worked at Clone World. The new ones were eager to perform their parts and considered it an honor to amuse the tourists. They must have gotten more extensive programing than he had, as a service clone. It hadn’t been a joy for him to work security. He’d just been resigned to his fate. Clones weren’t given a choice.

  Big had hated his job. Dealing with unruly guests speaking to him as if he didn’t have emotions or thoughts. Occasionally he’d been attacked, unable to really defend himself. Clones were only permitted to gently subdue violent offenders. It was against the law for a clone to hurt a human. Even an out-of-control drunken one who thought it would be fun to attack a clone to see if they bleed red.

  They did.

  Humans seemed to resent him even speaking to them when they needed to be reminded of rules they were breaking or were caught sneaking into areas out of bounds. Some of the guest complained when they were confronted by him, and he’d be punished. It was all bullshit. Big had just been doing his job. If he had ignored the infractions committed by guests, he’d have gotten punished for that, too. It was all about pleasing the guests. Even the asshole ones.

  The humans living and working full time on Clone World, the ones in charge of assigning his duties, weren’t any better. They treated clones the exact same way as they did androids. None of the ones he’d known had cared if the punishments they’d dealt out were reasonable or just.

  Life had been utterly depressing on Clone World for Big. Every year, it had grown worse until he no longer felt any happiness. To watch other clones in similar jobs suffering along with him hadn’t been a comfort. It had made it worse. But his fate would have been instant death if he’d ceased to perform his assigned duties. Perhaps it was part of his programming to have a strong will to serve…or maybe it was just sheer determination not to give up.

  Then, one of his friends had come up with a plan to escape, with the help of a rare human living on Clone World who had been sympathetic to their plight. For once, he had felt hope. They had a new option. To leave. Freedom.

  It had been frightening for Big to think of leaving the only life he’d known, what he’d been created to do, but anything at that point would have been better. Six of them had used their skills, access to the docking area, and knowledge of the planet to get off Clone World with the help of a human.

  Big cut off those memories and focused on securing the crates of plasma in his cargo hold. Gemma sat belted in, silently watching him. He worked faster, wanting to get the shuttle far from the transport. The vessel’s onboard computer was still broadcasting an auto distress signal. Not only was his life in danger, but now hers as well.

  Gemma was from the year 2020. He muttered a curse. It would probably be helpful to do research on that time period to see exactly how much the world had changed since her source material’s death. He’d also have to keep a very close eye on her mental stability to make certain she didn’t try to end her own life. The transition from living human to clone would be drastic. He refused to lose her. She hadn’t asked to become a clone.

  He also admitted, deep down, that he ached for companionship.

  He’d been alone for almost two years. When he and the other clones had first escaped Clone World, Fig and Free had scouted possible locations for them to live. The mining station they’d found was remote enough to avoid being detected but close enough to the travel path from Earth to Clone World, making it possible for them to raid transports for the plasma they needed to survive.

  They’d been lucky to find the location. Fig and Free were hacking geniuses and had downloaded information from an old freighter they’d discovered floating dead in space a few weeks after their escape. They’d docked with it, hoping to find food or other supplies. It had been abandoned for nine years. The logs stated the main engines had blown from age, the crew had gotten rescued by another ship, and they had just helped close down a mining operation on a moon.

  The six of them had been happy together at first, working together to make the mining station livable, excited to be free. But clones were made to work, to stay busy, and they grew bored after just a few months, getting on each other’s nerves. Then a few arguments had occurred over stupid things.

  His closest friend, Blade, had been the first to leave their group, after their failed attempt to rescue some humans.

  Big would never forget that day. Few ships came to their section of space. Getting a distress signal had surprised them all. The six of them had argued the intelligence of exposing their existence to humans. It was too dangerous. Humans really feared clones who defied the rules. They viewed them as dangerous and unstable.

  The majority of their six had decided not to risk their lives. A human would never do the same for them. Clones weren’t valued or viewed as real living beings.

  Then a woman’s voice had come over the communications, pleading for someone to come to their rescue. She’d mentioned three of the seven crew were women—and it was instilled in male clones to be protective of the opposite sex. None of them could ignore that voice or the urge to attempt a rescue.

  In the end, they had been too late. Their clone security team had boarded a private luxury cruiser that had drifted far from the normal travel lanes, only to discover the human crew had suffocated to death due to a faulty air circulator. They’d been eight hours too late. It had emotionally devastated all of them.

  Blade had taken it the hardest, seeing those dead humans. He decided to stay aboard the damaged vessel, once he’d made repairs. They’d argued with him, but his mind had been made up.

  Big felt just as guilty for not saving those humans faster, and he understood why his friend wanted to distance himself for a little while. He’d assumed after a few months, Blade would return. He’d been wrong.

  The remaining five of them had sworn to never make the same mistake of ignoring distress hails in their sector again, the
risk to their existence be damned. No one wanted to see more dead females.

  The next distress signal had come from a transport with a damaged engine. They’d docked to the ship to give aid. Instead of the clones being met with gratitude, the humans had tried to kill them. They’d had no choice but to defend themselves.

  All four human males ended up dying, refusing to cease deadly aggression.

  Another of his clone friends had left their home afterward, taking that transport. Ram needed time alone to recover from the emotional scars of having to kill to survive.

  Big had experienced it again and again, with stupid humans panicking and giving them no choice but to kill in self-defense. It had devastated the clones. One by one, the others had left their home base after those tragedies, until only Big remained on the station.

  He’d understood their need to travel, to explore, but it wasn’t an urge he’d shared with them. He liked remaining in one safe location. The raids on Clone World shuttles were a necessity, not a challenge.

  Big heard from his fellow freed clones from time to time. They seemed to be doing well, if living as pirates could be considered as such. They spoke via communications, but one of them had gone silent almost a year ago. He secretly feared Blade might be dead.

  Big pushed the last container and followed it. He was glad that Gemma had remained safely belted in her seat. He sealed the door before pushing the plasma crate against the wall and strapping it into place. The last of the cargo was secured.

  “Can I get up now?” Gemma reached for the belt release.

  “No. Stay strapped in. I’m going to reestablish gravity in a few minutes. I don’t want you to fall. I just need to check the ties on all these containers to make certain they don’t shift and break. It’s faster to do without gravity. These crates weigh just over four hundred pounds each. I’m strong, but it would be a strain when dealing with so many.”

  She frowned. “This is the worst dream ever.”

  He gave a sharp nod, as if agreeing. She was mentally stable as long as she kept believing this was a dream. He’d deal with the fallout later, once he blew up the transport to erase all traces of him being there. He didn’t need another criminal charge tacked onto his record.

  Chapter Three

  Gemma followed the tall hunk through his ship, to the front of the vessel. It had a tricked-out cockpit with two seats. Good thing, because her limbs felt oddly heavy after being weightless. She gazed at stars and a lot of blackness through the front window.

  “Strap in,” Big ordered, taking the seat to the left.

  “Where are the planets and the moon? The sun? Aren’t we supposed to be in space? Can we see Earth? I might as well enjoy the view while I’m trapped here.”

  “Strap in, please.”

  She sighed and took a seat, putting on the belts. “Fine.”

  “We’re in deep space, not in Earth’s solar system.”

  “You mean I dreamed up a black hole? Fantastic.”

  He grinned and started the engines. Everything vibrated and lots of lights came on across the dashboard. She noticed some kind of device in front of her. It reminded her of one of her son’s video game controllers. “Can I fly?”

  “No.” He flipped switches. “I am not giving control to your side. We’re undocking from the transport and then I’m going to destroy it.”

  “Isn’t Sherlock still over there?”

  “The android? Yes. I left it. It’s of no use to me.”

  “Awesome. Can I blow it up?” She stared out the big window and saw another ship slowly come into view. It appeared boxy in shape and was a light gray color. Seven numbers were painted in black on the side. “I mean, why the hell not? The robot has bugged the crap out of me since this dream started. I might as well get a little joy out of killing it off in my imagination.”

  “Push the white button near your left hand when I tell you to.”

  She reached out. “This one?”

  “Yes.” The space pirate flipped another switch. “Hang on while I target the transport.”

  “Okay.”

  He toyed with his large joystick. She grinned and watched as they backed farther from the boxlike ship. Big pushed some more buttons on a console over his head, then gripped another joystick attached by a thick sleeve on the dash.

  He glanced at her. “Hit the white button now. We’re locked onto the transport.”

  She pressed the button with gusto.

  Nothing seemed to happen.

  But then a hole suddenly appeared in the side of the other ship. She expected it to burst apart, blow up, but instead, big dents began to appear on the metal. It seemed to shrink inward on itself, then small pieces broke off around the edges of the main body, floating outward. There were a few sudden bursts of lights flashing in certain parts of the ship as more holes appeared, and the metal shell seemed to crumple more.

  “That’s it? No big bang? No blast of fire? That was kind of a letdown.”

  He chuckled. “Sorry. I just breached the interior to decompress the ship. I try to make these things look as if they were accidental. The distress signal didn’t specify the problem. These supply transports are always computer piloted, and it will be impossible for them to take stock of what was inside. The transport is too crushed, and it’s not worth hauling it to a docking station and bringing it inside to see what can be salvaged.”

  “Shuttles accidentally decompress? Does that happen often in this dream world?”

  “It does if the autopilot is faulty and unable to avoid space debris or asteroids. Rapid decompression will crush the ship. It comes apart at that point. I fired small asteroid chunks at it to create the holes. You didn’t see them because they’re as dark as space.”

  She pulled her legs up and rested her chin on her bent knee. “This sucks. I want to be on a beach next to the Pacific Ocean. You could be my cabana boy.” She looked at him. “Maybe not. You’re too large to be a boy anything.”

  He messed with more buttons, some switches, and his joysticks. “I know this is difficult for you to believe, but the time you knew is gone. You really are existing in what you would consider the future. I’m setting a course for home.”

  He slid out of the seat and bent next to her, releasing her belt. “Come with me.” He stood and held out his arm. “No other ships are in range and my autopilot will alert me if that changes.”

  “Right, right. You’re a pirate, and now the space police will want to catch us.”

  “They’ll kill us. I’ve possibly got an active death warrant out on me already, and you’re an illegally created clone. We’ll be safe when we reach home base.”

  “Okay. Now we’re playing baseball? This is so weird.” She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet.

  He grinned. “Home base is where I live. It’s a closed mining station inside a moon. The company that built it tapped out on the minerals they sought and abandoned the facility. A group of us found it and restored power.”

  “Of course you did.” Everything in this dream was turning out to be weird. She followed him out of the cockpit and into the narrow corridor they’d come from after leaving the cargo area. “So…a group?”

  “There were six of us. All clones. It’s just me living on the station now. They wanted to travel and seek adventures.”

  He stopped in front of double doors and pressed a button. They slid open to reveal a small square room. He entered and tugged her along. The doors sealed, and she felt a sharp drop. She gasped and squeezed his hand tighter.

  “The living quarters are below. Take it easy. This is a lift.”

  “Elevator. Got it. How many floors does this ship have?”

  “Two. Cargo and function operations are on the top section. Living quarters are below. The engines take up the entire back half of the lower section. I apologize that it’s not a smoother transition between floors. I need to fix that but haven’t gotten around to it yet. That repair wasn’t a priority.”

  The el
evator stopped moving and the doors opened. Big kept ahold of her as he brought her into another narrow hallway. They passed two closed doors. He stopped at the third one and opened it by pressing his hand on a panel. It lit up and seemed to scan his palm. The door slid open.

  Gemma released him and stepped inside to see what she assumed was a bedroom. The king-size mattress was a good clue. But it was the wall to the right that mesmerized her as she approached. It appeared to be the biggest television she’d ever seen. It ran floor to ceiling, taking up the entire flat surface.

  The image currently displayed showed a beach. It looked extremely realistic. She could almost see every grain of sand, and the crashing waves were spectacular. It was a view of a cove, with big rock walls on both sides of the small beach, the sun shining brightly in a clear blue sky.

  “This is what I’m talking about.”

  “I hoped you’d enjoy that view. I programmed the screen from the cockpit once you mentioned the Pacific Ocean. These entertainment walls are included with most shuttles. It helps combat claustrophobia for the crew, who spend months in space. I usually view other planets, but you mentioned a preference for sunny beaches. This is from Earth.”

  She reached out and touched the wall. It was felt like glass but it looked real enough to step into. It was a shame there wasn’t sound.

  “Gemma?”

  She turned and stared at him.

  “There are some things I must tell you, and I need you to trust me. Please understand that you’re safe. I won’t hurt you. This is going to be difficult to hear, but I’m going to help you every step of the way. Change can be a good experience. I’m trying to imagine how you will feel…and your reactions once the denial wears off. But there’s nothing to fear. You’re not alone, and we are the same.” He sucked in a deep breath.

  “Okay.”

  He studied her. “Cloning technology advanced beyond what you could imagine. You are a clone, with the memories and feelings of the woman you still believe yourself to be. Look at your hands. That should be proof enough.”