Rogue Clone

Would Colonel Wingate regret switching sides? Wingate could not possibly have known about the Doctrinaire . Would he try to weasel his way back into the U.A. Army?

What could Admiral Halverson possibly say to the men around him to give them hope? I imagined him at a table surrounded by stunned officers. “Sure it looks impressive,” he would say, “but we can take it. I know we can.”

No one bothered to interrogate me. In fact, after the visit from Halverson, I was pretty much left alone. My jailors suddenly remembered me the following day, March 27, 2512. That was the day that the tides of war turned.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

I started the day with a quick search of the mediaLink and found nothing exciting. I pinged a few channels to watch news analysts digest yesterday’s demonstration. One U.A. analyst called the Doctrinaire the “most dominating advance in military strategy since the fighter carrier.” On the Confederate Arms stations, I saw the same interview again and again—some wizened admiral I had never heard of dismissing the Doctrinaire as “The Unified Authority’s new Bismarck .”

“ Bismarck ,” I mused. Huang had used the same historic reference during the summit.

Having grown up in U.A. Orphanage #553, a clone farm in which the term social studies translated to the study of great land battles and oceanography meant naval science, I knew all about the Bismarck . That was the unstoppable battleship of its day, a juggernaut with one Achilles heel—its rudder. A torpedo jammed the rudder of the unsinkable Bismarck and it sailed in circles as enemy warships pounded it into the sea.

“We have more than five hundred ships in our fleet, not twenty-five,” said the old admiral, a man with mutton chop sideburns and a bushy white mustache. “Our ships have been reengineered. The U.A.’s new Bismarck is big and slow and will make an easy target for a modernized fleet. No serious military strategist believes you can win wars by making a really big boat. They gave that up centuries ago.”

Irritated by that silly old man, I took one last look around the U.A. networks for news and gave up.

I laughed at that relic of an officer for pulling out an old chestnut like comparing the Doctrinaire to the Bismarck . Granted, the Bismarck had been sunk, but there was no overlooked rudder on the Doctrinaire . Apollo could not have guided an arrow into Achilles’s heel had he been dipped in wraparound shields.

It did not look like much had happened during my resting period, so I took off my shades and began my morning exercises. I stretched my legs, arms, back, and neck. Placing my toes on the edge of my cot, I balled up my fists and did four sets of fifty push-ups on my knuckles. I then did sit-ups and leg lifts and jumped in place.

Just as I began to work up a decent lather, Sam the jailor came in. “You might want to put on the shades Admiral Halverson gave you,” he said. “We’re about to attack another planet. It’s time to show those U.A. speckers what we think of their big scary boat.”

My chest, shoulders, and arms had a pleasant dull ache. I felt muscle spasms as I sat on the edge of my cot and slipped on my shades. Regular programming had been preempted. In a moment, the station would show a live news flash.

“How long has the attack been going?” I called.

“Just began,” Sam said.

At first I thought the Confederate Arms reporters and their Navy had become so cocky that they were talking about attacks before they happened. Then I remembered that I had been watching a Unified Authority station when I removed my shades. Somehow the U.A. knew about this attack before it commenced.

The heading at the bottom of the screen read: TUSCANY—SAGITTARIUS ARM. The scene above was a battle in progress.

The live feed was shot from the planet’s surface and told me nothing. There was none of the destruction I had seen on New Columbia. People gathered along the streets and stared into the sky to watch tiny flashes of light—a distant naval battle that blended in all too well with the stars around it. Whenever there was a big flash, a momentary explosion that looked no bigger than a dime in the night sky, the crowd would “oooooo” and “ahhhh” like an audience watching a pretty fireworks display.

Just moments ago, a fleet of fifteen Confederate Navy ships broadcasted into Tuscany space and were intercepted by a fleet of nearly fifty U.A. ships. It is not known if the Doctrinaire, the Unified Authority’s super ship, joined this battle.

The reporter, a young woman with long brown hair wearing a pretty light blue suit, looked more like she was on her way to the bank than covering a war. Her hair was perfect. She stood calmly in front of the camera, speaking casually. Above and behind her, little lights twinkled and extinguished. They might have been fireflies, or stars on a very clear night.

In recent days, the Confederate Navy has attacked Gateway and New Columbia, destroying military bases on both planets. This attack marks the first time that Confederate ships have been seen in the Sagittarius Arm.

The woman paused and touched her finger to her ear. Then the screen split into two side-by-side windows.

Paula, we are receiving the first still images of the battle as it appears from space. These are early images released by the Department of the Navy.

Behind the anchor woman’s desk, a large screen showed pictures of a space battle. The first picture on the screen showed ships broadcasting in. The ships were black and would have been almost invisible if not for the bright lightning halos that formed around them.

As you can see, at 2215 standardized time, fifteen Confederate ships appeared in New Tuscan space.

The next picture showed swarms of fighters gathering around shadowy shapes that looked something like black holes. The attack had already begun by the time this image was taken. The only evidence that those black shapes were indeed enemy ships was the little pricks of light where missiles and lasers struck their shields.

According to Naval sources, 350 U.A. fighters engaged the enemy ships, destroying two battleships. U.A. battleships, cruisers, and missile carriers also joined the battle.

The next picture showed four ships taking heavy damage. In the background, I saw the flare of rocket engines. While their comrades burned, several Confederate ships tried to cut and run. They had no choice.

There are unconfirmed reports that Naval Intelligence knew about this attack in advance and that Navy spies have infiltrated enemy command. The Department of the Navy denies those reports. We do know that the Navy was ready for this attack.

There was a pause.

I have just received a report that a total of six enemy ships have been destroyed and that nine others managed to broadcast out safely. While Pentagon sources confirm that several single-man fighter craft were destroyed in the battle, the U.A Navy lost no capital ships.

I heard the clang, but my attention was fixed on the news and it never occurred to me that somebody had stepped into my cell. “Company, Harris.” It was Sam’s voice and Sam’s fist, which slammed into my stomach. I was stretched out on the cot, completely unaware. The pain telegraphed itself from my gut to my brain in an instant. I curled up, my arms folded over my diaphragm as I struggled for air.

My Liberator programming kicked in the moment Sam’s fist struck. The problem was not that I panicked. My mind was clear and I felt that warmth as the endorphins and adrenaline spread through my veins, but I had no air in my lungs. Given a moment to breathe and climb to my feet, I might have fought back, but Sam did not give me