The results were available fi?fteen minutes later. Vanderveen felt a sudden emptiness in the pit of her stomach as the results of the vote were brought forward for review by the Council prior to the formal announcement. Because if those seated all around the diplomat had a stake in the outcome, then so did she, and those she had chosen to represent. Whether they wanted her to do so or not!
Vanderveen watched carefully as the piece of paper was passed from person to person. She tried to read the Council’s faces, searching for the slightest glimmer of joy or disappointment, but without success. Because one of the hallmarks of the perfect society was the need to conceal one’s emotions. It was something all of the clones were extremely good at. So when Alan rose to read out the results, the diplomat had no idea of what to expect. “The votes have been counted,” the rebel said gravely as he looked out over the assemblage. “And your decision is clear. You chose freedom—
and all it entails. The revolution has begun.”
There were cheers as the delegates came to their feet, and somehow, in all the hubbub that followed, Vanderveen found herself in Alan’s arms. There was pleasure in the long, tender kiss that followed, but a sense of guilt as well. Because promises had been made on planets far, far away. Promises that echoed through her mind, robbed the kiss of its sweetness, and left the diplomat confused, for the memory of the legionnaire was bright and clear. He was smiling down at her as they lay together on the hill above her parents’ estate, toying with a lock of her hair, while a hawk wheeled high above. Then a cheer went up, the embrace came to an end, and the vision disappeared. It was a sunny day, and as Vanderveen followed Alan and a team of Fisks along a busy street toward Bio-Storage Building 516, she was struck by how unassuming the drab onestory structure was. Except that description wasn’t really accurate. For Building 516 was an inverted skyscraper that extended hundreds of feet down below the planet’s surface—
a design intended to protect both the structure and its contents from everything up to and including an orbital attack. Because there was nothing more precious to the Hegemony’s hereditary social structure than the sperm and ova stored in the carefully maintained bio vaults below. There were duplicate facilities, of course. Two of them. Both located on other planets. But neither had the symbolic and emotional heft that 516 had, which was why it was the perfect place to start the revolution. And why it was heavily guarded. But the freedom fi?ghters had a number of things going for them, including the element of surprise and a cadre of revolutionary sympathizers who were waiting inside the building. The assault was timed to coincide with the morning rush hour, a time when it was perfectly natural to see lots of people on the street. Normal, that is, until a hundred of them suddenly broke away from the main fl?ow and turned in toward the storage building.
Vanderveen heard the staccato rattle of gunfi?re as the shock troops at the head of the column took submachine guns out from under their trench coats and opened fi?re on the Seebos stationed in front of the main entrance. Only one of the six soldiers managed to fi?re a shot, but it was deadly, and the diplomat had to step over a dead Fisk as she followed the others into the building. She felt sorry for casualties from both sides of the confl?ict. The second line of defense consisted of four Romos. They were in charge of the security checkpoint located in the lobby beyond the front door, and having already been alerted by the sound of gunfi?re, were waiting with guns drawn. But as the policemen turned their attention outward, and prepared to fi?ght the invaders, two female Crowleys attacked the men from the rear. The gentechs were armed with pistols that had been smuggled into the facility piece by piece over a period of weeks. And even though the women weren’t experienced with fi?rearms, they didn’t have to be, since the unsuspecting policemen were only a few feet away.
Most of the Romos weren’t members of the hated death squads, but some were, which was justifi?cation enough as the Crowleys emptied their weapons. There was no way that body armor could protect the policemen’s heads, which appeared to explode as the high-velocity projectiles hit them. As Alan, Mary, and Vanderveen followed a phalanx of Fisks into the lobby, they were forced to pass through something resembling a slaughterhouse. The diplomat had seen a lot of violence during her relatively short career, and even been forced to take some lives herself, but she had never experienced anything worse than the sight of the blood-drenched walls, the smell of suddenly released feces, and the pathetic whimpering noises that the single survivor uttered as he lay fetuslike in a pool of his own blood.
A Fisk pointed a gun at the Romo, as if preparing to fi?nish him off, but Alan intervened. “No,” the Trotski said fi?rmly.
“He was doing what he was bred to do. . . . Just as you are.”
The anarchist gave Alan a strange look and turned away.
“We need a medic!” Alan shouted, and one paused to help, as more rebels pushed in off the street. Many were carrying supplies in case of a siege.
“All right!” Fisk-3 shouted. “The alarm has gone out—
and government troops are on the way. . . . So let’s get some people up onto the roof! And watch your backs. . . . There are still plenty of Romos and Nerovs inside the building.”
At that point, all of the measures intended to protect Building 516 from external threats were turned against the authorities, as they were forced to set up a security cordon around the now-impregnable fortress, and try to come up with a plan to force their way in. Except that the people inside had hostages, billions of them, in the form of frozen sperm and ova.
Meanwhile, as heavily armed revolutionaries worked to block all of the street-level entrances to the building, specially designated teams went looking for Romos and Nerovs who had already gone into hiding. Except that hiding was diffi?cult to do, because the Crowleys knew where to look, and it wasn’t long before the remaining security men were killed or captured, leaving Bio-Storage Building 516 secure—for the moment at least.
All of which was bad enough from the government’s point of view. But what happened next took the loss of Building 516 and multiplied the disaster by a thousand times as the enterprising revolutionaries tapped into the planetwide communications system and took control. Suddenly, out of nowhere, both the Alpha Clones and millions of citizens found themselves looking at a man who’s offi?cial name was Trotski-4, but introduced himself as “Alan.”
As the revolutionary began to explain why Building had been taken, one of Nankool’s aids rushed into the president’s temporary offi?ce to tell the chief executive about the live feed. It was only moments later, as Nankool’s staff gathered around to watch the impromptu newscast, that Undersecretary Zimmer said, “Look!” And pointed at the screen.
“It’s Christine Vanderveen!”
And sure enough, standing behind the clone named Alan, to his right, was the missing diplomat. “Well, I’ll be damned,” the president was heard to say. But Nankool had a smile on his face—and that was a wonderful sight indeed.
