Freedom's Myth, page 31
part #3 of Freedom Saga Series
Ryan shook his head. “This is just an inconvenience to keep some hack from trying to sell it to the news dispatches. Henry, do we have the edition?”
“Negative, hotty boss, but I can do a workaround. It will take up a lot of RAM. I’ll have to drop oversight on the control systems and shut down the Orgy Girls-Station House crossover I’m experiencing. Captain Philips really knows how to use his hose. He—”
“Henry, not on the job!” Ryan’s voice was firm.
“Yes, my captain,” snipped Henry.
“Pull the RAM. Let’s find out what our friends are chatting about. Everyone, pay attention to your boards. Henry won’t be there to catch mistakes. Kitoy, let Tim know I want him back here when he’s done with Asalue’s quarters. We can let environmental coast for a few minutes, but I’ll want it rechecked afterwards.” Ryan moved to the pilot’s station and re-checked its feeds.
Henry closed his android eyes. The computer board lit up as all its auxiliary RAM units were turned to the problem.
“What’s he doing?” asked Rowan.
“Looking at the copy of The Art of War we have on file. Doing page, paragraph, and word in on it, then shifting forward and backwards to find sentences that make sense with the coding in the message. Using those sentences as a basis, he’ll form a compensation pattern that will speed up matching later sections until the message is translated into comprehensible sentences. We organics could do the same thing, but it would take days.”
All eyes turned to Kitoy.
“I was felinezoid intelligence. I learned more than how to chat on a sleeping cushion.” Kitoy twitched her ears and lashed her tail.
“That’s going to take a long time without the cipher,” observed Rowan.
Henry kept his eyes closed and his focus inward. Five minutes later, he opened his eyes. “It’s no Orgy Girls, but at least it wasn’t boring.”
“Put it on screen, please,” ordered Ryan.
To Command Officers Chimera.
From Admiral Yvonne Carlotta LaFleur. UES Space Services Command.
Effective immediately.
Once the Star Hawk leaves the Switchboard System, you will proceed directly to the Sol System stargate, where Captain Graham Crapper will take command of the gate monitor and transfer vessel Postman. Commander Adler McKenzie will assume interim command of the Chimera.
Regards.
Admiral Yvonne Carlotta LaFleur.
Ryan laughed.
“They’re rewarding that idiot with a new command. Talk about failing up,” snipped Rowan.
Ryan kept chuckling. “The transfer ships are backwaters for officers waiting out their retirement. Most of their crew have lost their edge. If they ever had one. The ships are small, antiquated, and only hand out speeding tickets and transit information through the gate. In short, they’ve put Crapper where he can’t do any harm and has about zero upward mobility. He is now a slave to his own incompetence with no one else to blame.”
A conniving expression came to Ryan’s face. “Why not? It will make me feel better.” Ryan moved to the command chair and sat like a king on his throne. “Kitoy, please contact the Chimera and put it on screen.” Two seconds later, the bridge of the Chimera filled the Star Hawk’s main screen. Crapper sat in the command chair looking like a dog about to pounce on a rabbit. Commander McKenzie stood behind and to the right of the chair.
“Do you require assistance?” Crapper’s voice dripped venom.
“Not at all. I simply wanted to congratulate you, Captain Crapper, on your new command. I’m sure the Postman will prove a post well suited to your talents.” Two seconds passed as the message sped to the other ship, and the response reached the Star Hawk. On-screen, Crapper went pale.
“What are you talking about?” demanded the big man.
“We intercepted the standard communication blip from the Switchboard Station by accident. It happens all the time when ships crowd each other. My system decrypted it automatically. I couldn’t stop myself from reading your new orders. As I said, I wanted to congratulate you on your new command.” Ryan’s smile nearly split his face.
Two seconds passed. The faces of the bridge crew on the Chimera seemed to light up.
“Communications, what is he talking about?” demanded Crapper.
“Sir, new orders in the daily dispatch. I hadn’t reviewed it yet.”
“Put it on screen,” snapped Crapper.
“I must be going, but I also want to congratulate Commander, acting Captain, McKenzie on his field promotion. Acting positions have a tendency of becoming permanent if the officer is competent. Good luck with it.”
On the screen, Crapper leapt out of the captain’s chair red-faced and screaming. Commander McKenzie heaved what looked like a sigh of relief.
“Thank you for your good wishes, Captain.” McKenzie shot the screen a salute before it went blank.
“Kitoy, kill it, please.”
Rowan laughed out loud.
Ryan returned to the pilot’s station. “Henry, bring up the next dispatch. Let’s see what else we’re not supposed to know.”
* * *
Greg settled in the chair in the Freedom’s Run control room.
“It’s too bad you need to work the board. This is going to be one nova blast of a party,” remarked Arlene.
Greg shrugged and scanned Medwin’s readings. The surrogate was stressed with a side of rage. The rest of the team were edgy.
“I dialed back Carol to her natural settings. We don’t want her seducing a show producer to take the edge off. Jessica is running at default. The Defenders of the Crystal board is reading her as asleep. There’s a new controller on it, so she probably won’t notice the loop in the feed. I haven’t seen a blip from Gunther all shift. Medwin had them crawling over Mike’s estate. If that kid does get out, he has a real future in security, or as a second-storey man.”
“Or a hitman,” added Greg.
Arlene moved to the door. “Let’s hope not. Any idea what’s up with Gunther and Jessica?”
“They’re probably too far apart. Telepathy functionss with a field sstrength dynamic. Could alsso be the curve of the planet iss blocking the ‘ssignal’. I learned more about pssi in the lasst forty-nine hourss than I ever wanted to know. If they’d sslept together, the sseparation would likely have killed them. At leasst that’ss what the mythss ssay.”
“Stardust happens when you don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Truth.”
“I need to get changed for the launch.” Arlene ducked out of the door.
Greg set the main monitor to show Medwin’s inputs. He was in a large bedroom done up with a king-sized bed/couch rolled against the wall into its second function, two chairs, and a coffee table. A desk and a dresser sat against the wall. An e-rig sat in one corner of the room.
“My apartment isn’t this big,” observed Carol.
“Rich bastard!” grumbled Medwin. He scanned his compatriots. Kendra was in a black dress that bared one shoulder and showed off her lean, muscular legs. She’d combed out her hair, and it fell like black satin to between her shoulder blades. Her makeup was minimal. Medwin’s monitors showed attraction mixed with mild surprise, then confusion, then guilt.
“At leasst he noticsed,” remarked Greg.
Obert was wearing a black tux that matched Medwin’s. Jessica and Carol were both in black dresses that conformed to their figures and fell just below the knee. The clothing had been waiting for them when they arrived.
“I wonder why we’re here. What’s in it for the controllers?” mused Obert.
“Ulva didn’t know. I don’t think she’s big on the planning side. She thinks that her boss wants to make things better for clones and that he’s gone as far as he can without coordinating with our side. She… I scanned a lot of minds today. Most people only know that Freedom’s Run is a show but nothing about it past the name,” added Jessica.
“So, this really is a show launch,” said Medwin.
“Probably. Ulva also let it slip that Michael’s wife, Marcy, is like us. She started on a show.”
“And he still enslaves clones,” blurted Kendra.
There was a knock at the door. Obert moved to open it, admitting Michael and Marcy, who were dressed in conservative formal wear.
“Hello. I’m the rich bastard you came to meet,” opened Michael.
“Bastard is a debatable point,” remarked Marcy with a smile.
“You’re…” began Jessica.
“Michael and Marcy.” Mike became serious. “Medwin, let me offer our condolences. No one intended what happened with Armina.”
“What did you think would happen?” demanded Medwin.
Mike sighed.
“We thought, we hoped, to get a better deal for clones on and off the set region. What you have seen in Freedom’s Run is true. It is very bad for clones. I wouldn’t be alive today except for Mike. I’m like you.” Marcy smiled reassuringly.
“So why are we here?” Kendra stepped forward to better see her hosts.
“Let’s sit. Old knees don’t like standing as much as they once did.” Mike and Marcy took the couch, Jessica and Carol the other chairs while the others stood close by.
“You were going to tell us what this is about?” demanded Medwin.
Mike nodded. “Ulva’s deduction that my plans have gone as far as they can without a dialogue between our groups is largely accurate. Maintaining secrecy with both your group and the studio is becoming cumbersome. One of the secrets had to go.”
“So, you know we’ve been out of the set region before?” asked Obert.
“That trip will come up in season three.” Marcy smirked a little.
“You look like Willa,” observed Jessica. “And your mind is… It’s not her, but there’s something.”
“Think of us as twin sisters.”
“Season three, you mean…?” Medwin went red in the face.
“You are all principles on Freedom’s Run. Starting the day that Gunther recruited you.” Mike looked a little embarrassed. “As soon as your episodes come up on the timeline, I’ll change your official status. For the time being, I’ve cancelled any do not assist orders regarding you and your immediate family and friends.”
“My mum,” blurted Medwin.
“Is as safe as she ever was,” answered Marcy.
“Wait a minute. Are you saying the jammer doesn’t work?” Obert leaned against one of the loungers. His head was spinning.
“It works well enough. Only Freedom’s Run has any idea of what goes on in that room, and I intend to keep it that way,” explained Mike. “By the way, I’ve purchased a dozen handhelds for you to take to Gunther for his jammer project. I’ve instructed those in red jackets at the party to let you ‘pick pocket’ them. I’d rather not have you stealing from my guests to meet his needs. Just try to put on a good show. You will be recorded, and we’ll likely need the sequence later.”
“What’s the point of all this? Ryan, Rowan, us? If you don’t like how clones are treated, why not just set us free?” Medwin glowered at Mike.
“One, I don’t have that kind of power. Two, the emotional surrogates are just the nasty tip of an extremely nasty iceberg.” Mike looked at his wife. His features grew soft as he spoke. “Over fifty years ago, I fell in love with a dream, a fantasy that I had conjured to let others touch a moment of life. To feel and see through the eyes of the other. I’d hoped that seeing through those eyes, people would awaken to the fact that the other had merit.”
Mike sighed.
“Some did.” Marcy took his hands in hers.
“Some. Sadly, there are always those who must hold the other separate. Must have a focus for their hate and dissatisfaction. After many years, the powers that be determined that my dream had run its course and that newer fantasies would garner a greater following.”
“They were going to kill you.” Jessica stared at Marcy.
Marcy nodded. “Back then, they killed all the principles from cancelled shows.” She looked at her husband. “We put a stop to that.” Turning back to Medwin, she continued. “I know your pain. Every one of my friends from high school is long dead. Killed by the studio without even the bad excuse of a plot device.”
“I tried to save you all.” Mike looked down. “I rigged the vehicle that was removing the cast to malfunction. I didn’t have a way of helping them all, so I picked the one I loved the most, while I gave the rest a chance to run.”
“I didn’t know what was going on. Swept thousands of years into the future. No friends, no family, and just a very sexy, very strange man as a guide. Sound familiar?” asked Marcy.
“Freedom’s Run,” remarked Kendra.
“Cycles repeat.” Mike nodded to himself. “Human nature remains human nature. Once I was sure Marcy was safe, we decided that we could do more working from the inside to amend the system, so I came back.”
“Since then, we’ve slowly worked to change things. The right to life legislation that ended the blatant killing of emotional surrogates was the first big step.”
“My father and the do not assist orders?” asked Medwin.
“Your father had cancer. There’s a heightened incidence just from the quick clone process. To make matters worse, a group of anti-clone fanatics poisoned part of Sun Valley with radioactive dust. Even with our advanced medicine, many clones developed cancers that couldn’t be cured. Rather than make them suffer, we used them for the necessary deaths that propelled the dramas.”
“You’re sick. We’re people!” blurted Carol.
“Everyone in this room knows that. That’s the point of Freedom’s Run, to teach the people out there.” Mike gestured to the universe beyond the room.
“Then what, a civil war?” asked Obert.
“Accomplishes nothing for the price paid,” said Marcy. “Activism. For the clones like Ryan, equal rights, anti-discrimination legislation, the right to keep their status to themselves and an extension of the cloning age limit based on science, not an arbitrary number. For clones like us, the right to join the real world as citizens if we discover the truth. An end to the ‘do not assist’ orders. An end to the extreme quick-clone procedure that only gives a thirty-year life expectancy.”
“There is a slower quick-clone procedure that gives about sixty years of life. It costs more, but throughout human history, sixty years was pretty close to an average life expectancy,” added Mike.
“And you keep making your shows,” demanded Medwin.
“They won’t stop. The UES needs the money. S.E.T.E. is a major employer. Change must come in steps. If I try to bring down the system, Obert’s big red button will be pushed.”
“What?” asked Carol.
“They’ll kill everybody,” explained Kendra.
Carol went pale.
“And dear, Medwin. How many of the surrogates would follow Armina’s example? How many could not accept what they were? Like my Trevor.” Tears brimmed in Marcy’s eyes.
Mike hugged her.
“It’s all right, Mike. It was long ago. You see, Medwin. Trevor was my first love. He, like your Armina, couldn’t deal with the reality of what he was. He slit his writs. It still hurts, but life goes on.”
Medwin stared at the couple on the couch and wanted to hate them. Wanted to let anger consume him, but he couldn’t. “What do you want from us?”
“Go on as you have. We will contact you. Don’t let on that we’ve been in communication. We’ll edit out what we need to make it seem like you stumbled into the party with no more encouragement than the rogue controller, Ulva, tipping you off. Talk to people at the party, learn about this brave new world. Keep Gunther and the rest in the dark. It will be better for the drama if the audience thinks you’re doing it all yourselves.”
“We’re still a show,” observed Obert.
“My greatest show. How else can we get the message out? We need to sway public opinion, make real change. Are you with me?” asked Mike.
“What choice do we have?” challenged Jessica.
“We could slip away. Just vanish into the world,” suggested Obert.
“Don’t try that,” pleaded Marcy. She looked at Mike. “Without a guide, it just won’t work. Trust me.”
Medwin turned to Jessica. “You’re the telepath. What do you think?”
“I think… we’re among friends.” She turned to Mike and Marcy.
“Then let’s party. Red jackets beware,” quipped Obert.
“Enjoy yourselves. If anyone asks, you are student interns from the university working the control boards. If they ask which show, mention A Cat’s Life or Detective Dave.”
“You have got to be kidding,” said Obert.
Marcy smiled. “They should be serving the banquet.”
“I need answers,” objected Jessica.
Mike sighed. “I don’t have many. The situation with Gunther is an unforeseen development, but I’ll share what little I know.”
“I smell pizza.” Obert started for the door. The rest followed him, Medwin in the rear.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dodging a Bullet
“Greg, this is Michael. Our lost lambs can now be found.”
Greg closed his handheld and adjusted the Freedom’s Run board, reactivating Medwin’s group’s feeds.
The party was lavish, with well-dressed people spotted over the palatial estate. The sounds of splashing and play came from a pool situated by a large manor made from native stone and topped with solar panels and tulip wind turbines.
Medwin’s perspective made a beeline to the food table where various kinds of seafood were matched with pizza and chicken wings, all on silver serving plates. Waiters in red jackets walked through the crowd carrying trays with drinks.
A willowy woman with medium brown skin and luxuriant hair, dressed in a blue sequined evening gown, used silver tongs to select chicken wings from a platter labelled ‘suicide’ onto a plate. She was speaking to a blonde woman with a golden tan dressed in a light blue pantsuit.
“She adores Fluffy from A Cat’s Life. But I just don’t agree with clone kittens when there are so many unwanted pets in the world. So, I took Cassie to the shelter. The kittens were so adorable. I wanted to bring them all home. Cassie just fell in love with Midnight and Tiger. They’re littermates. We went from having no cats to having two.” The dark-skinned woman sighed. “And I went from no cats on the bed to Cassie, Midnight and Tiger sleeping together most nights. They’re just too cute together.”
