Michael

A Chapter by Serge Wlodarski

As the ship made its way back to the asteroid belt, I spent my time getting to know Eve, and considering the next step. With two pairs of hands we could mine twice as fast. But it would take too long to build an army by purchasing clones a few at a time. At some point I had to start freeing them by force. I didn’t see any reason to wait. But Eve was terrified of the thought of killing naturals.

I realized my training had prepared me to act as an individual. Yet I had no idea how to lead others. This was going to be more difficult than I thought.

As soon as I stole Randleman’s password, I had begun educating myself on the ship’s computer. I read every book and article I could find about how to wage war. Sun Tzu. Von Clausewitz. Strategy, tactics, weapons, psychology. One day I will be a general, leading an army. Today I am a criminal, preparing to murder and steal. I must become an expert at guerilla warfare. I will show no mercy to the enemy.

It hadn’t occurred to me until this point that I might have to convince other clones to be as ruthless as I am. Eve was shocked that I had planned and carried out the murder of a natural. And that I was planning on starting a war against them. In her mind, I might be as bad as them.

We talked, argued, brooded, and argued more. I told her to come up with a plan that would lead to freedom without violence. She spent hours reading about Gandhi, Martin Luther King, the formation of labor unions. We talked and argued more.

Eventually I convinced her that those success stories on Earth could not be duplicated in outer space. In each of those cases, oppressed people were able to band together. They were able to plan and act in unison. They were able to use the strength of numbers to overcome their lack of political and economic power.

In outer space, clones are isolated from each other. There is no way to band together, except for my way. And the chips and collars gave the naturals a measure of control that had never existed before. Taking what we want by force is our only option.

Eve and I came to a compromise. She would do her part, as long as she didn’t have to do any killing. I was okay with that. I intended to watch as many naturals die as I could, by my own hand. I just needed help with details.

An ambush was in order. While we were in port at the Europan trading center, I catalogued every ship that came through. I listened to the chatter on the airwaves. I made my best estimate for the number of naturals, and number and type of clones, on each ship.

I went through the computer’s logs to see which ships Randleman had communicated with in the past. One of his drinking buddies might not think twice if I invited him to share the bounty on the new titanium asteroid we just discovered.

One ship stood out. The Starscraper. A rig designed for a crew of three, slightly larger than my ship. As best as I could determine, they were all male, two naturals and a clone. And entries in Randleman’s log indicating he had met one of them at the trading station’s bar on a previous stop.

The captain replied to my invitation to join forces on a mining venture. When they arrived, they were disappointed I had deceived them. They got over it when I killed them.

We agreed to meet a few days travel away from the site. I, pretending to be Randleman, would give them samples of the asteroid and the feasibility study results. They would sign an agreement that would guarantee the usual 10% commission as a finder’s fee. The next step, where we would proceed to the asteroid and begin mining, would never happen. There was no titanium.

Eve stayed behind while I jetted the coal car into the cargo bay of the Starscraper. I glanced back at our ship, and saw the name Randleman had given it. The Randleboat. I hated that name but it would remain painted on the hull for now. I had never thought about a new name, but Eve had. She decided the ship should have the same name she gave me as a nickname. One day, we would paint over Randleman’s logo and everyone would know we were the crew of the Avenging Angel.

With an altered collar on my neck, and a temporary tattoo on my forehead, the two naturals had no reason to suspect I was a threat. Even if they knew the sample container I carried held two concussion weapons, they would have assumed my collar and chip would prevent me from using them. That would have been the last bad assumption they would make.

The concussion weapons produce a powerful subsonic sound wave that can’t be heard but has enough force to knock a person off their feet and knock the wind out of them. Beyond rupturing eardrums, they will not cause injury. More importantly, they will not punch a hole in a ship’s hull or damage any equipment.

The two naturals did not have time to react when I pulled the devices from the container and stunned them. As they crumpled to the floor, I turned to the clone and said, “Do not move, I will not harm you.”

I taped a medical patch to the neck of the nearest man. It immediately injected a series of nanobots into his blood. They were designed to release just enough paralytic agent to make movement nearly impossible. But not enough to prevent breathing. I wanted them to be alive long enough for me to explain what I was doing. I was putting on a show, intended for the clone. I repeated the process with the other natural.

I turned to the clone and said, “You’re not going to believe this s**t.” I took off my collar, then wiped my tattoo off with an alcohol swab. I placed the collar on one of the downed men. Then pointed a remote control at the clone’s collar. I held my hand out to him as the lock clicked open. He took it off and handed it to me. I placed it on the second man’s neck.

To the clone I said, “From now on, you are a free man. We have a lot of talking to do. That will have to wait. I need to give these two fuckers a clone lesson before I kill them.”

I could hear the two men trying to talk as I applied the press-on tattoo to their foreheads. As with Randleman, I wanted their bodies to be marked with the clone number of their killer. All they could do through the paralytic agent was make moaning sounds. The sounds got louder when I pushed the button that caused the collars to shock them.

“Soon I will eject your unprotected bodies into outer space. You will explode like there is a grenade inside your chest. For now, I want you to know what it feels like to be a piece of property. But unlike what your kind has been doing to clones for the past fifty years, I will be merciful. I will end your pathetic lives quickly.”

As the two bodies drifted out of the cargo bay, I sent a brief text to Eve. “It is done.”

Unlike Eve and myself, it took M94285439M92 a while to choose his name. We had been working for a month, back at the old asteroid, filling the cargo bays of the two ships with nickel. When he explained his choice, I was impressed and amused.

I chose my name, Saffron, from a song popular 150 years ago, in 1966. Three years later, Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin would be the first humans to walk on the Moon. It was a major step toward the colonization of the solar system. There was another astronaut on that mission, the commander. He stayed in orbit and ran the show while his more famous partners hopped around on the surface and picked up rocks.

Our team now included a quiet, capable, strong man who named himself after the Apollo 11 commander, Major General Collins, United States Air Force. The leader of the most famous space mission in history. We were an army of three. Saffron, Eve, and Michael.

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