The Clone Redemption

water. She was a pretty girl with long hair and a dark complexion. Before leaving, she smiled at Oliver and nodded at Hara.

Oliver touched the water to his lips. He might have taken a small sip, Hara could not tell.

“You aren’t thirsty,” Hara observed. “Then why did you come to a bar?”

“Why do you think?”

“How did you know where to find me?”

“I’m like you, Lieutenant. I’m watchful,” said Oliver. His right hand sat on the table, the sharp fingers curled back, the knuckle of his forefinger knocking against the glass of water.

Hara was again reminded how much he disliked the SEALs. There was an order to Japanese society, a rhythm between authority and corruption. The SEALs disrupted it. Deciding to test the clone’s manners, Hara said, “We don’t see the kage no yasha in our bars very often.”

If he took offense, Oliver did not show it. He smiled briefly, and said, “Yes, we shadow demons prefer to remain in our lair.”

“You know that term as well,” Hara said, sounding both impressed and disappointed. “I was looking forward to translating it for you.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

Hara noticed that there was something different in the SEAL’s demeanor, and it made him nervous. Under most circumstances, the SEALs had an almost embarrassed air about them, as if they were ashamed to be seen. But Oliver was sitting in the open, his banter as comfortable as if he were family.

“What did you want to discuss, Master Chief?” Hara asked as he fumbled to slip the thumb of his left hand into the sleeve of his shirt. Hidden in the cuff, he had a panic button. By pressing it, he sent a distress signal to the other Yakuza.

“I came to let you in on a secret,” said Oliver. “Would you like to know what we talked about after you left the meeting?”

“As a matter of fact, I am curious about that,” Hara said.

Oliver spoke in a soft voice, a voice so calm and even that Hara had to lean over the table to hear him. The SEAL’s gaze fixed on Hara’s eyes.

In the past, the SEALs did not meet other officers’ gazes. There’s something different about him, Hara thought again. Something threatening. He rolled his thumb over the panic button again.

“But, Master Chief, isn’t that restricted information?” asked Hara.

Oliver did not respond to the question.

Hara watched as the door of the bar opened. With his back to that door, Oliver did not see the two brantooed sailors enter the bar. His eyes hidden behind dark glasses, Hara watched the men as they quietly slipped into a nearby booth.

“We’re heading back to New Copenhagen. Yamashiro wants to start a colony.”

“On New Copenhagen? That cinder of a planet might sustain life, but it would not be a life worth living,” said Hara.

“No one is calling it the Garden of Eden,” said Oliver.

“What about the ship they saw, the one that chased us away? What will he do if that ship returns?”

“We hit it with our best weapon,” Oliver said. “We have plenty of stealth infiltration pods.”

“You do realize that that was a Unified Authority ship. Does Yamashiro really want to fire on a U.A. ship?”

“We could always broadcast to Earth and ask the Unified Authority if the ship belongs to them,” said Oliver.

A man and a woman entered the bar. Hara did not care about the couple, but he was glad to see that there were three men with brantooed necks and dark glasses waiting outside the door, along with the two who had entered the bar. For the first time since the conversation began, the lieutenant allowed his thumb to drop from the panic button.

“I don’t understand why we are returning to the Orion Arm at all,” said Hara. “We have not completed our mission. Is the old man admitting defeat?”

“We still have a way of getting around the ion curtain,” said Oliver. “You’re a betting man. I’ll wager you’ve run a simulation of it.”

“Broadcasting the Sakura into their atmosphere? I’ve run the simulation. The ship won’t survive long. It’s suicide.”

“Good thing we’re leaving all nonessential personnel on New Copenhagen.”

“Where they will starve to death if they don’t suffocate first.”

“Where they will have a chance of surviving.”

“Why are you telling me this?” asked Hara. He gazed over the clone’s shoulder at the Yakuza who had entered the bar. Hara had as unreadable a poker face as any man on the ship, but his eyes would have given him away had it not been for the shades.

“I am here to let you know that you will not be joining the colony,” said Oliver.

He sounded so relaxed. He thinks he’s in control, Hara thought. If only he could see the men sitting behind him.

“Did Yamashiro send you?” asked Hara.

“No, I came on my own.”

“And I see that you came alone,” said Hara.

“I hoped we could keep this between us.”

“A gentleman’s agreement?” asked Hara.

“Something like that.”

“You want me to go down with the ship?” Hara asked.

“Consider it seppuku if you like.”

“You are not a pilot or a weapons technician, doesn’t that make you ‘nonessential personnel’? Do you plan on committing seppuku as well?” Hara could feel his heart racing. He could feel the sweat running down the outside of his chest and along his back. He was in control of the situation, and the SEAL still rattled him.

Calm as ever, Oliver said, “I’m staying on the ship.”

“You can commit suicide if you want. Why should I?”

“Because there will not be room for serpents in the Garden of Eden,” said Oliver. “The colony won’t have room for gambling or prostitution or vice lords. There won’t be time for gangsters or secret organizations.”

Hara nodded to the men behind Oliver. Watching his men rise to their feet and walk to the table, Hara felt a wave of relief wash over him. He laughed, an explosive mirth-filled bray. “You think I’m a gangster?”

“I think you are one of the losers,” said Oliver.

“ ‘ The losers’?” asked Hara. Seeing his men standing behind Oliver, he felt giddy. Taking this man, this inscrutable SEAL, had been so easy.

“Ya Ku Za. Eight-nine-three, I believe it refers to a losing hand in cards,” said Oliver.

“Very good,” said Hara. “You have a good grasp of Japanese.”

One of the men laid a hand on Oliver’s shoulder and pressed the tip of his butterfly knife into the SEAL’s back. Corey Oliver did not flinch. He did not move. His eyes remained fixed on Hara’s.

“You have decided that I should die with the ship, and I have decided that you do not have the right to make that decision,” said Hara, adding, “If you go out quietly, we won’t need to eliminate witnesses.”

No more words passed between Hara and Oliver. While his men escorted the clone out of the bar, Hara returned to his table at the back. He felt no regret about what would happen to the SEAL. When you worked both sides of the law, the occasional murder was a survival mechanism. He did not have time to think about Oliver; he needed to make plans for New Copenhagen.

The SEAL had been correct, the name, Yakuza, did refer to a losing hand in cards. In Hara’s mind, it was the losing hand that made the Yakuza the winners. In his mind, the Yakuza were not the ones who held the cards, they were the ones who dealt them.