Mind Over Ship

Someone knocked frantically at his door. Fred dropped the bag, made a fist, cocked his arm, and flung the door open. He threw a punch but pulled it back before it landed. Mando was at his door, in his service uniform, and it looked like someone had already punched him. His left eye was bruised and swollen half shut.

“Fred! Why are you still here?” Mando said. “Why aren’t you aboard the Fentan?”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Fred, Fred, Fred,” Mando said, pushing past him into the room. He glanced all around, saw Mary’s FUS and the spacefaring donald, spotted the travel bag. He picked it up and thrust it into Fred’s hands. “We must hurry.”

“Yes,” Fred said, “let’s go.” Fred swiped away the holos, and they left the room. In the hall, the walls on either side of his door had been marked with hateful words and glyphs.

“Forget about that,” Mando said and pulled Fred by the arm.

“Wrong way,” Fred said. “The spokeway lifts are that way.”

But Mando was insistent. “We’ll take a utility lift to the hub. The main spokeways aren’t safe.” He didn’t elaborate.

“Who hit you?” Fred said. “Was it a brother? Do you know his name?”

“It’s not important. Getting you on that ship is important.” He led Fred down little-used corridors to a service lift. They passed only a few startled dorises and aslams along the way.

“Wait a minute,” Fred said as the elevator doors opened. “Why are you in a TECA uniform?”

“Because I am on duty.”

“But why aren’t you on the Fentan? You were supposed to board days ago.” Then the truth hit Fred. “No one would sell you another homerun. You sold me your own ticket!”

“Yes, and if we don’t hurry, it will all be for nothing. Come, my crazy friend.”

He tried to pull Fred into the elevator car, but Fred stood fast. “What about Luisa? Don’t you want to go to her? It’s your ticket, not mine. How dare you put my heart before your own?”

Pain flashed across Mando’s damaged face. “There is no time, Fred. When you are on the ship, call me and we will talk.”

Fred shrugged him off. “We’ll talk now.”

“You are stubborn, my brother. Let us compromise and talk on the way.”

“No!”

When Mando saw that Fred would not budge, he said, “I love Luisa more than breathing. But you, Fred, you and Mary. How can I say this? My brothers say you are sick, that you have the clone fatigue, and that is why you must humiliate us before the world. But I say they’re wrong. You and Mary are special. What happens to you matters to all of us, to me and Luisa. If you or Mary die, we all die. You can’t stay here any longer. Besides, I promised you a ticket, and a russ keeps his word. Now can we go?”

Fred joined him in the lift, and they rode it to the hub where they found a shuttle to the Fentan’s spar. They were silent the entire trip out, and Fred made a quick list of all his options. When at last they reached the Fentan gangway and processing station, Fred grabbed a handrail and halted himself.

“What’s wrong?” Mando said. “Only a little farther.”

“Not for me, my friend. I’ve been thinking.”

“Fred!”

“No, shut up and listen. You are a true brother, Armando Mendez, and a true friend. You helped me see what I need to do. No, don’t speak. I wish I could save all of us. I don’t think I can, but maybe I can save a few.” He shoved his travel bag into Mando’s arms. “You’re going back, not me. If they’re still alive when you get there, do what you can.”

Before Mando could object, Fred said, “Earth Girl, come in.”

“Listening.”

“Transfer my passage aboard the Fentan to Armando Mendez.”

“You can’t!” Mando said.

“It’s already done.”

FRED TOOK A cart to a spot near his old space gate. Top Ape was waiting for him in an EM shadow with two of the tamperproof cases. Fred swiped them and said, “Make all the bullshit stop.”

Then he boarded a shuttle for the civilian port. He used his Spectre to send a message to Veronica TOTE to meet him at once. On his way to the Elbow Room he did some port traffic analysis and booked a room in a civieside rez wheel.

BY THE TIME Fred reached the stockroom, Veronica TOTE’s proxy was waiting for him. “Smart decision, Commander.”

“Wait until you hear my conditions.”

If the real Veronica TOTE was as exhausted as her proxy looked, she hadn’t slept in days. “By all means,” she said, “let’s hear your conditions.”

“First, tell me if I’m reading the traffic data correctly. I see a lot of musical chairs with the cryocapsules. Have you changed your mind about the Chernobyl?”

A thin smile spread across the pirate’s face. “Why, in fact, we have. We took your comments to heart and did a little research, and you were right about both the Chernobyl and the Hybris. When you’re right, Commander, you’re right. Fortunately, we’re a nimble organization, and we should be able to handle the last-minute switch, especially now that you’ve returned to ride herd on our monkeyboys.”

“About that. Tell me something: In this new society of yours, this new center of power in the universe, will there be room in it for clones?”

From the look on the proxy’s face, this was a question that had never crossed Veronica’s mind. “I doubt Applied People or Capias World or any other human resources agency will choose to operate there.”

“I’m not talking about the companies. I’m talking about independent iterants, ex-commercial clones.”

The proxy gave it some thought. “I suppose there could be a place for runaway clones, but it’s not something I could decide on my own.”

“That’s my first condition,” Fred said. “After you take over the ship, you will issue a public proclamation that all independent clones are entitled to full citizenship and equal rights in your new colony.” Then he remembered something Mary’s FUS had said. “Including full unrestricted reproductive rights.”

“Clones having babies? That’s a tall order.”

“Watch it get taller. Second, you will immediately place into biostasis my wife and her two sisters, Georgine and Cyndee. I can tell you where you can find all three of them right now. You’ll also biostase Luisa Mendez of Cozumel, Mexico. I can give you a positive ID.”

“They’ll refuse. I understand that all ’leens are refusing that.”

“I really don’t care. You’ll kidnap them if necessary and do it anyway. Kidnapping is a TUG specialty, isn’t it? Once that’s done, you will hide them from the authorities, but you will inform their spouses or designated others and give them the decision of how and when to quicken them.” Fred paused to review what he had said, and he added, “And let the spouses know it was me, Mr. Clone Fatigue, who so ordered it.

“Third, put Mary in a cryocapsule and smuggle her up here to the Hybris with your own stowaways.”

The proxy was incredulous. “Anything else?”

Fred thought for a second. “No, that’ll do. But when you take Mary, be prepared; my wife keeps company with a diplomat-class bee.”

The overtired proxy shook its head. “You know, Commander, there’s been a fair bit of discussion around the War Table about whether or not you really have fallen out of type.”

“Is that a fact? And what was the upshot?”

The proxy crossed its muscled arms. “You really want to know?”