SuBBrilliant Blog

Lawrence sat waiting in the President’s office. He had immediately ordered Tranquility armed forces to search for a Chong imposter, but for some reason he had stopped before changing the access codes or putting out a general alert.  Something was nagging at the back of his mind. When Chong had showed up in Armstrong, he’d had those nagging suspcions caused by the idea that something wasn’t quite right. Now, in the face of all reason, Lawrence had the opposite feeling.  The cadence and tone fo the man calling from Tranquility had sounded real. He considered some sort of temporal disturbance, but that was the stuff of fiction and highly unlikely.
Before his doubts could take him further, Chong entered the office.
“What’s this I hear about an imposter in Tranquility?” he asked.
Again Lawrence got the nagging feeling that what Chong had said just din’t sound liek Chong. “Probably nothing sir. I believe it to be a prank.  I’ve asked the museum security staff to look into it.  IF they report back anything worth knowing, we’ll be sure to follow up.”
“Very good. I’ve asked Ford Junior to meet me down here in a moment.  Do you mind if we have some time alone.  I want to get his advice on a few things from the clone’s point of view.”
“Of course sir.”
Lawrence decided to head down to the cafeteria and happened to run into Junior as he was leaving the office waiting room.
“You can go right on in Junior. He’s waiting for you.”
Ford junior nodded and headed in. As soon as Lawrence was out of ear shot, he opened the door and let in Narang. They locked the door and Ford Junior led the way into the President’s office.
“Hello Junior,” Chong smiled and stood up, then stopped. “What are you doing here?” Chong’s tone was deadly but he found himself immobilized.
Narang smiled. “Good to see you again Mr. President.  Memory Release Code Alpha Wipe Center Gold Devil Fawn Beta Indeterminate Reprogram and Restart.”
Chong’s eyes glazed and he dropped a pen he’d been holding.
“You’re right Ford 18.  We will have to see to that muscle repsonse system won’t we. I’ve told Patel about it, but I shall remind him. Chong?
Chong’s eyes fluttered and then he spoke in a dull, not quite monotone voice. “Basic system accessed. Reprogram stream spooling. Ready for further instruction.”
“Excellent. We’ve heard a little trouble may be coming our way.  I want to know I can count on you.  Sometimes if a clone sees himself clones, or see the original unprepared, it can break programming. We don’t want that to happen. If you saw a duplicate of yourself, what would you do?”
“Error.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.  This clone mind control is tricky business.  But we’re going to give you a patch Chong.”
Narang pulled a small flat metal box from his pocket and held it front of Chong’s glazed eyes.
“Please look deep into the light Chong.”
The glazed eyes focused on the box. Narang pressed a button on the side and Chong’s eyes began to dart back and forth.  In a moment there was a low chime from the box and Narang removed it and put it away.
“Thank you Chong, you can return to normal input state.” Chong’s eyes glazed over again. “now, Chong, let’s see what happens here. If you saw a duplicate of yourself, what would you do?”
“Assess danger and eliminate duplicate target unless counter-instructed by handlers,” Chong droned.
“Excellent.  Did you see that Ford 18?  The pacth took in a jiffy.  Ocular reprogramming works.  It bloody well works. Patel will be overjoyed.”
“was I ever like that?” Ford Junior asked.
Narang raised an eyebrow and turned. “Like what?”
“All slack and programmed like that.”
Narang looked sympathetically at the boy.  It had really been only a few days since his programming had been broken.  He was starting to doubt.  Narang needed to stop this kind of thinking at once.
“Never. You were programmed yes, but only a false program that could easily be broken so that they could be taken in. I’m sorry we haad to fool you in that way at all, my boy.” He patted Ford Junior in a fatherly way.
Junior smiled. “It’s OK.  I understand its for the greater good.”
“That’s the spirit.  Now. One last thing before I go.  Chong. Self-diagnose and identify fundamental mission layer.”
Chong closed his eyes for a few seconds then opened them. “Diagnosis complete. Normal. FML – Startegic INtegration of Fundamentalist Union officials into UMC governemtn starting with research institute for cloning.”
“Excellent,” Narang stood to go.  “Ford 18?  You can carry on from here.  Reactivate him I assume?”
“Of course sir.”
“Excellent, excellent. Be sure to back step him a frame or twoi so he doesn’t remember me walking into the room.  It will give him a momentary jolt, but it’ll pass.”
“Will do sir,” Ford Junior ackknowledged, and accompanied Narang until he was safely out of sight in the hallway. He returned to the office and approached Chong.
“Affirmative, memory wipe to semantic request three frames prior to access code.  Control returning to biological imprint in five seconds.”
Chong blinked a few times then appeared startled. “What?  What just happened?”
Ford Junior bent to pick up Chong’s pen. “You dropped your pen sir.  Here.”
“Is that all thank you.  I could have sworn– but anyway.  Where were we?”
“You had called me in to consult about the cloning speech.”
“Yes of course.  Have a seat.  I want your unique perspective on this.  I’m not a clone of course.”
“Of course not sir,” Ford Junior grinned.

“That was quick,” said Chong, looking down at the body of Friedrich on the floor. Malinao had delivered a kick to the head just as Friedrich had finished his last sentence. He had fallen to the ground in a heap.
Malinao was holding her side. “I think I pulled a muscle.  I haven’t really been stretching lately.”
Chong was on his knees examining Friedrich.
“Who was he?” Malinao asked.
“His name was Friedrich. I saw him briefly when they had me in the shed.”
“Was?”
“He’s dead,” Chong said.
“Oh,” Malinao had never killed anyone.
“Good kick.”
“I– guess so.”
“Look, you did what was necessary.  You saw what he did in that room.”
“You’re right it’s just that–”
“Never mind that. Let’s get to the communication center.”
Chong led them back downstairs and into a large locked room full of electronic equipment.
“I need to get a coded message to New Cav right away,” he paused. “Um– would it be weird if I asked you to wait outside?”
Malinao laughed, breaking the tension she’d felt since she drop-kicked Friedrich.
“Of course not, Nr. President. I guess I’ve sort of forgot our roles there for awhile.” She moved closer. “Don’t be long.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek.
Chong could only manage a whisper. “Yes, Madame Speaker.”
He turned back to the equipment hearing the hush of the sliding door lock behind him. He found the emergency coded line to New Canaveral and activated it with his personal code.  He was hoping they hadn’t revolved off the previous formula because of his capture.  The line activated and he heard Lawrence pick up.
“Tranquility this is New Canaveral. It’s about time we heard from you.  The President’s been worried.”
Chong found this rather odd. “Yes I have been worried, Lawrence,” Chong replied.
“Who is this?” Lawrence snapped.
“It’s me Lawrence. We just got out of a mining tunnel between here and Cana.  Hashimoto didn’t make it but the Speaker’s OK.”
“I repeat, identify yourself.”
Lawrence sounded scared and confused. “Lawrence, this is your boss, the President of the United Moon Colonies. Richard Chong.  What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know who you are, but the President is with me here, so it’s not going to work.  I’m going to cut the channel.”
“Wait! Chong yelled. Lawrence, you furball, what do I have to do to prove its me, remind you of why you don’t want to be President? All those eyes you see in your dreams? Or should I finally break my word and tell Laurie at the Station Stop in New Cav you have a crush on her!” Chong had thrown out as many of the secrets only he could know as he could come up with on a moment’s notice.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I’m Rich Chong, that’s how. Who’s pretending to be me?”
“I don’t know what’s going on, but the real President Chong is here in New Canaveral and he knows all those things you just said.  So however you got your information, I commend you, but it’s not going to work. Investigators will be there shortly, stay where you are.  Channel cutting now.”
Chong received nothing but static as the channel protocols were refreshed.  That also meant all his security codes would be changed in moments. He needed to get out of the building before he got locked in. He ran out of the communications room and grabbed Malinao by the elbow.
“We have to run!”
She didn;t ask why, trusting him and sprinted along with him. They made it outside in time to see samll group of museum security coming up the street.
“They haven’t spotted us yet, around here.”
Chong dragged Malinao into a side alley next to the building.
“Care to tell me what’s going on?” Malinao asked in a whisper.
“Shhh.” Chong listened to the footsteps as they came up the street.  Once they went inside he risked looking. One guard stood in front of the building.  If they came out and turned left immediately, they could get away unseen.
“I’ll tell you in a minute, just follow me fast,” Chong hissed.
They raced out and around the corner.  Chong didn’t hear anyone shout after them so he guessed they hadn’t been seen.
“We have to get over to the train station and get to New Canaveral as fast as possible.”
“What happened?” malinao asked.
“Someone has tolen my identity I guess,” Chong wasn’t so sure himself. “I tried to contact Lawrence and he said I’m already there in New Canaveral, and he didn’t believe me at all.  Even the things only he and I know, he claimed the me that’s already in New Cav knew too.  Thats one hell of a clone, if that’s what it is.”
“So you’re not you anymore.”
“Not in the eyes of the government. As soon as Lawrence cut the channel he would have to change all the codes and put out an alert for an imposter.”
“Why aren’t we going to the Capitol in Serenity?”
“During the war we opened a Presidential office in New Canaveral because it was closer to the military.  We really haven’t moved out yet. Shh.”
Chong pulled up short and ducked down behind a corner.  They heard the man from the airlock talking coming towards them.
“I swear it was him.  He was a dead ringer.  And he had someone with him he claimed was the Speaker of the the USA or something,” the airlock manager said.
“Possibly another clone.  We’ll check into it. They murdered the Vice President and possibly more.  We’re getting reports of a slaughter at headquarters here,” said another voice
“I can’t believe I let him in.”
“Not your fault. You couldn’t have known.  Don’t worry.  We’ll catch him.”
They passed and Chong raced off in the other direction. They made it to the train station and Chong blessed the inefficiency of the private train lines.
“Better hurry folks,” said the woman at the gate. “I’m hearing they might shut the trains down for some damn reason.  I’m going to make sure the next line gets out but that may be it.”
Chong thanked her and kept running hoping she didn’t look to closely at him. They jumped on a Lunar Link train waiting for them. “Thank god it’s an L,” said Chong. “It only has one stop in Chang-Ngo. An M would have at least three stops.”
“Your train system needs work,” Malinao needled as they borded.
“Thankfully.  Let’s hope they don’t stop the train in Chang-Ngo for inspection.  My guess is they won’t.”
The train lurched forward, taking Chong towards a meeting with himself.

Lawrence found the President of the Colonial Assembly in Chong’s office in New Canaveral.
“Thank god you’re here,” Assembler Catherine Hamala said. “We’ve had no word from Vice President Hashimoto.  They were about to swear me in today.”
Lawrence decided to skip the normal dig he’d take at Hamala’s pretended lack of ambition. “What do you mean no word?”
“Perhaps you’d better tell me what’s going on Lawrence,” Hamala took a stern tone.
President Chong is on his way up, so perhaps we should sit down outside his office and discuss,” countered Lawrence.
Hamala inclined her head and came out from behind Chong’s desk. “Very well.”
Lawrence had the patience to wait to make her talk, but he didn’t need it.  She began to spill all she knew as they sat down in the outer recption room tothe President’s office.
“When the President’s abduction was reported, Hashimoto was sworn in as acting Chief Executive of the UMC. He wasn’t given the title of President until we knew what had happened for sure. He received some intelligence but wouldn’t share it with me. The last I heard from him, he was in Tranquility and told me he had sensitive information on the President’s whereabouts but that I needed to assume a ready position in case something happened, which I did.” She looked a little put out, as if Lawrence had been accusing her of something for being in the President’s office. “I’ve heard nothing since. Hashimoto was very secretive.  He gave out no information for fear he would risk the rescue. He ordered everyone to stay away from Tranquility for now. That’s all I know.  We were about to countermand his order and issue a search group to go to Tranquility.  When they reported back, if they couldn’t find him, they were going to swear me in as acting chief. That’s when I heard from you that Chong was on his way. The opposition is having a field day, asking all kinds of questions about who’s running the country, and why the President and Vice President have been so secretive. What’s happened to the Vice President?”
“We don’t know,” Lawrence admitted. “Hashimoto rescued President Chong and Speaker Malinao and I was rescued separately by an underground group in Armstrong. The President met with me there before proceeding here. Apparentl the Vice President and the Speaker had other business to attend to in Tranquility, but we haven’t heard from them either.”
“Well, it’s the President’s call now, but I think he should allow the group to go to Tranquility and investigate.”
“I agree.  I’ll inform President Chong of your advice.”
“And what’s all this about a cloning policy speech?  Is this the right time for that?  It seems incredibly out of place?”
“Does it?” said Chong as he came into the room.
“Mr. President,” Hamala and Lawrence stood up.
“I know there are a lot of questions.  I’ll have a briefing for the cabinet and key Assemblers right away. But the policy speech is more important now than ever.  You’ll see why when I brief you.  But suffice to say for now, the Fundys aren’t gone and their involved in cloning.”
“So you want to make it legal!?” Hamala cried.
“We want to prevent them from having any advantage in it being illegal,” Chong explained. “As I said, you’ll see in the briefing why.”
Hamala just shook her head. “I hope you know what you’re doing Chong.  The opposition is calling for your head.  There hasn’t been a President recalled by the Assembly in 70 years and I’d rather not fight a recall vote under my leadership.”
“You won’t.  I think the briefing will take the wind out of their sales.”
Hamala didn’t look convinced but took her leave of the President anyway.
“Lawrence, set up that briefing in time to give me an hour or so to sit down with Ford Junior and prepare the speech.”
“Yes sir– uh– Ford Junior? You mean Mr. Ford, don’t you sir?”
“No, I want Ford Junior,” he sighed. “Just do it Lawrence.  I have my reasons.”
lawrence was taken aback. That was not Chong’s usual style.  IF he didn’t want to explain himself he usually just kept quiet not admonish like that.  It’s one of the reasons Lawrence loved working for him.
“Very good sir, I’ll see to it.”
“Thank you.  Close the door on your way out.”
“Sir?”
“The door.”
Lawrence shut the door. That also was way out of character. Chong made a point of never closing his door.  If he really needed privacy he asked Lawrence to just keep people out of ear shot.  He wanted the symbol of transparency to be dead clear. It was dogmatic. Why the sudden change? Unfortunately Lawrence didn’t have time to speculate.  The president had been through a lot.  No doubt it had shaken them all up and knocked themselves out of their usual routines.  He had work to do to get the Assembly leaders and the cabinet together for  atop level meeting on short notice. He’d better get to it.
As he left the office he thought he saw someone in the hallway duck out of sight.
“Hello?”
He defeinitely heard whispers.
“Who’s there,” lawrence stroded down the hall, ready to call security.  He found Ford Junior hiding behind a plant.
“Junior?  What are you doing here?”
“Please don’t be mad, I was just so curious.  I know I’m not supposed to be here.  I just wanted to see.”
“No, it’s all right.  The President will want to see you in a few hours. Come with me and I’ll give you a badge so you don’t get tossed out.”
“Can I meet you there?  I have to go to the bathroom.”
“There’s a bathroom on the way.  I need to stay with you until your properly credentialed.”
Ford looked worried. “Uh– OK. Let’s hurry though.”
Lawrence started to lead him back down the hallway.
“Oh wait I dropped something behind the plant.  I’m sorry I’ll be right back.”
Lawrence waited impatiently while Ford fished around for something on the floor.
As Ford leaned down behind the plant, Narang hissed at him from the dark at the base of the pot. “Go, he’ll make you suspicious.  We’ll finish this later.”
Ford nodded and picked up a small plastic trading card of an Ahsaas Colony Movie Star.
“Found it!” he yelled to Lawrence.
“Come on then,” Lawrence shouted.
Ford gave one last look at the hidden Narang and ran back up the hallway.

Malinao still wasn’t sure she hadn’t permanently damaged Chong when she moved him. She wasn’t sure she hadn’t permanently damaged herself either.  Plus she had apparently used up a tremendous amount of Oxygen in the effort. The air was dangerously thin now.
Chong lay on the gurney she had rolled over. He breathed heavily now too in the thin air but she hadn’t got a response out of him and she’d lost all track of time. She sat on a stool next to him, holding his hand just muttering now and then.
“You don’t know how you looked when I first met you on Air Force One.  I’ve never seen a man so self-important and shy all at the same time. I wanted to torture you. You know, the flirty kind of torture.  That’s why I stole your seat. But you captured me right there without my even knowing it.  I’m not that forward with men usually. I’m rather distant as a matter of fact,” she chuckled. “I made my career off it. But you just had a look about you.  Soft and gentlemanly but strong and,” she gasped for breath. “I don’t know.”
“Are we going to leave now?”
“Chong?”
The President squirmed a bit and opened his eyes.  A slight smirk was on his face.
“Between letting the minidrill run and playing true confessions,” he paused and gulped some more air, “You seem to have used up all the air. So maybe we should go.”
“What?” Malinao looked at the Minidrill adn for the first time noticed the soft humming and the low ready lights. Chong had got it started.  That had been the explosion.  She could have been halfway to Tranquility by now. How stupid!
He tried to sit up but couldn’t quite make it.
“I’m so incredibly dumb,” Malinao said as she helped him up fromt he gurney.
“You were just worried. Nice story though.”
“How much did you hear?”
“Just the last part. Something about wanting to torture me?”
“Dream on President,” she laughed.
Between the thin air and Chong’s bulk, Malinao’s lungs almost burst.  But he was getting his legs back and once she had him up, he was able to stand on his own. They folded themselves into the minidrill quite snugly and Chong took the controls.
“You OK to drive?” she asked.
“I’m fine.  Just don’t wiggle too much, you’ll distract me.”
The closeness of the cabin had put them in such a position that Malinao could see what he meant.
“I’ll try to just torture you a little,” she laughed, which turned into a cough in the depeleted air.
“Here we go.”
The mindrill lurched over the barrier of junk from the main compartment and began boring its way back towards Tranquility.
“I’m going to try to get us up close to the surface where the dirt is more loosly packed.  That will save us energy. Keep an eye on the depth meter for me though.  We don’t want to pop up on the surface. That could be bad for a number of reasons.”
Malinao wasn’t sure she wanted to know why.  Chong had turned on the oxygen generators in the minidrill as soon as they had begun moving, and she felt herself reviving quite a bit. They bumped along in silence, punctuated by Malinao’s depth updates whenever they came within a meter or two of the surface. Finally she couldn’t resist anymore and had to ask.
“How much longer?”
“Well I think we have enough juice to make it if we don’t hit any obstructions. We didn’t on the way in, so I don’t see why we should. Another half hour?”
“Why didn’t we just go down the empty tunnel?”
“That would have been a lot slower. The Minidrill is meant to propel by drilling.  It has small wheels to maneuver in open spaces but it’s not meant to go long distances like that.  Well, it’s not meant to go long distances at all.  I hope we don’t break the bit.”
“The what?”
“The drill bit.  The part that’s churning through all that rock.  I did quite a bit of work with it already.  AS long as I keep it straight, we should be OK.”
After about 20 minutes, CHong began to slow down the minidrill and eventually they came to a stop with Chong muttering a quiet curse word.
“What’s wrong?”
“We’re just outside Tranquility.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Malainao was puzzled.
“Yes, but I forgot something. The colony dome is sunk down in a nice thick wall of heavy barrier rock, not the moon dust we’ve been plowing through on the way here. If we try to cut through it, the minidrill will either run out of juice or break a bit trying.  We’re just not strong enough to get through it.”
“How did we get out?”
“The Main drill could cut it, plus there was already a tunnel for it.”
“So we just cut into that tunnel.”
“If I can find it. It’s not mapped and I’m not seeing it anywhere.”
“What happens if we surface?”
“Well, if they glass doesn’t break and we lose all our air, I can nose us up. If I don’t put us all the way out, I can use the maneuvering wheels to get us back down under.  But I’m not really confident that decompression won’t happen.”
“If you can get us a peek, I might be able to tell you where the tunnel is.”
“How’s that?”
“When we were going below to board the main drill, I noticed the Flag from the first Moon landing outside at the Tranquility Monument.   It’s my country’s flag, you know, so it caught my attention.  I can figure about how far we were at that point, if I can see the flag.”
Chong wasn’t sure. He had noticed some pretty shaky seals after the cave-in.
“All right, if we break a seal, we won’t have any time. You’ll just have to point, and hope you’re right. It’s a big risk.”
“If you don’t think we should, I understand.”
“I just wish we had suits. Let’s do it.”
Chong started the minidrill forward and tilted up. The drill bit poked out into a brilliant black sky. Everything in the cabin turned silver int he reflected light. Chong got them just far enough up to see over the ground. The seals held.
“I don’t see it,” Malinao groaned.
“I do, it’s off to my left.”
“Let me look.”
They struggled around each other, which at another time and situation would have proved very distracting.
“I see it. The tunnel should be that way.”
Suddenly they both heard a hiss.
“Seal’s loosening, try to plug it with something, I’ll back us down.”
The hiss grew more insistent as Chong backed the drill down into the tunnel.
“Plug it up, Sam!” Chong yelled.
“I’m trying, I can’t get a hold of it.”
“Don’t use your had it’ll freeze it. Anything else you can flatten over it or plug under it.”
The hissing had become a screaming as the minidrill lurched back on it’s way and turned towards the area Malinao thought the tunnel was.
“Dammit, use this,” Chong ripped off a piece of his shirt and thrust it at Malinao who was still fumbling with various loose itemse to plug the seal.  It had widened into a lip that seemed to be hissing a death call at them.
Malinao grabbed the rough canvas bit of shirt and stuffed it in the screaming hole’s mouth. It muffled it into a mumble of quiet gurgles.
“Make sure it stays there,” Chong said. “We don’t want it to pop out and break the glass.”
“Did you call me Sam?”
“What?”
“Just now, did you call me Sam?”
“I– maybe–I don’t know I was in a panic.”
Malinao smiled. “Nobody calls me Sam.”
The seal popped out twice more before they reached the tunnel, but Chong didn’t call her Sam again and the glass didn’t break. The broke through the tunnel and convinced the airlock operator to let them in before they explained.
A burly grey-haired dark-skinned man climbed down from the airlock controls shouting.
“Now what kind of ridiculous prank are you kids pulling riding out on the open Moon in a goddamned minidrill of all things.  You two should be– Mr. President?”
“Yes, I’m President Chong.  This is United States Speaker Samantha Malinao.”
The man was stopped cold. “Well, of all the mercy in God’s worlds. They said on the news you were on your way to New Canaveral for a big speech. What happened to you?  You look awful.”
“wellt hank you,” Malinao quipped.
“No offense intended, Ma’am.  I’m– I’m at a loss.”
“What do you mean I’m supposed to be in New Canaveral?”
“That’s what the nescasts all are saying sir. You’re going to give some groundbreaking speech on cloning rights.”
Chong and Malinao exchanged glances.
“We’ve been trapped in a drill hole between here and Cana,’ CHong risked revealing. “Wasn’t anybody going to check?”
“I don’t know sir. I had no orders for the airlock.  I figured whatever you were up to you made it to Cana and left from there.”
“Never mind.  We need to get to our headquarters. Please alert the Tranquility folks that a there was cave-in and all hands but us were lost. They’ll want to salvage the drill and tend to the dead”
“Wasn’t the Vice President on that drill?”
“Yes, he was.” Chong replied softly.
“Oh my,” tha man said. “I’m so sorry.  Well, you need medical attention, Mr. President.”
“Not now!” Chong was already leading Malinao up some side stairs.  They ran, their lungs greedily filled with dome-generated oxygent, through the Tranquility museum out through the road to the Colonial building where their headquarters had been. There was nobody there but automatic sentries. Chong used his identification to get in and they raced upstairs to the second floor assembly room where the staff was supposed to be.
“This area is closed by Presidential order,” replied the pleasant female voice of the sentry program when they tried to enter the staff room.
“Override that, I’m the President,” Chong barked.
“Dual confirmation security protocol requested.”
A tray slid out where Chong was expected to touch a blood tester with his finger to confirm his identity.  He did so.
“Presidential identity confirmed. Override authorized.”
The doors slid open to a macabre scene of slaughter. Ten UMC guards and a dozen of the Vice President’s staff lay dead in pools of blood and gore. The stench was overpowering and almost made Chong puke.
Malinao asked for the doro to be closed and had tears in her eyes. “What’s happening?” she asked.
“I think I may have a clue.” Chong said. He asked for a picture of the internals of the room to be displayed.  It was shocking enough without having smell it at the same time.
“Focus in on the upper corner,” Chong asked the monitor. “Lower right.  A little lower.  There.”
Written in blood on the wall near the corner were the words, “And the sinners shall be smote.”
“That’s a Fundy slogan,” Malinao gasped.
“And not a scientific clone-faction one either.  That’s a devoted follower of Touareg did that.”
“You’re correct,” a voice said from behind them.
Friedrich, the night guard from the shed in Cana stood behind them.
“And now I must finish my job,” he said rasiing a knife.

Narang lifted the robotic prostheses Patel had supplied him.  It felt like a real arm.  It worked like a real arm.  But Narang knew it wasn’t a real arm. He seethed inside against the miniscule girl who did this to him. Once Ford 18 had seen the Chong clone on its way to New Canaveral, Narang would take care of the girl. She was a nuisance.
Patel and Carlos came through the door of the cavern. The Canaan authorities had turned away from him and they had been forced to hole up in a cave in Amrstrong. There were several near th eedge of the dome in a crusty part of the surface that had never been developed or formed into any kind of usable terrain. It was a low point in Narang’s leadership. They had never before been forced to crouch in such squalid circumstances.  He decided to make a point of the irony.
“Look around you gentleman, for this is an illustartion of the principle, ‘darkest before the dawn.’ We are on the ve of our greatest triumph, so it is no mistake that we are laid into our humblest surroundings.  Don’t you think?”
Patel looked uncomfortable. Carlos looked reverent. Narang knew he would have to do away with Patel one day.  But he needed to have him train a brilliant scientist. Perhaps another CHong?  The Ford clones were too unpredictable. Perhaps a Patel clone.  Patel had resisted the idea vociferously, but there were ways.
“What have you come to tell me?” Narang inquired, knowing the two wouldn’t pair up to pay him a social call.
“Ford 18 has contacted us<" Patel recited.  "He initiated a successful vocal probe on the Chong clone.  It is programmed and responding as expected. Lawrence seems to have bought the programming.  I'm quite proud of that.  He's  tough one to convince." Carlos jumped in with some annoyance at Patel's self-congratulations.  It was not the Fundy way. "They are headed to New Canaveral in the morning to make a policy speech." "Excellent," Narang agreed. "We must make for New Canaveral ourselves.  I may need to fine tune the clones programming before the big speech." Patel balked at this. "What fine tuning would be needed?  I've laid in all the instructions we need, and there's no cause for suspicion?" "I have my reasons," Narang growled. "Do you doubt me?" "No sir, of course not." "Very good," then make the arrangments for travel to New Canaveral and bring the necessary equipment.  We can leave the base here for now." Carlos turned to go. "Wait with me for a moment Carlos." Patel stopped too. "You're dismissed Patel." The scientist looked aggrieved at the slight but turned on his heel and left. Carlos approached his master with a look of blank obedience. "You have served the Fundys for many years Carlos." "It is true sir." "You even served for a time in Toureg's household itself no?" "An honor that I was lucky enought to have yes, though never on the great man's staff itself." Carlos' words had the rhytym of litany, of ritual. But Narang knew it irked him to use the Toureg's name plainly rather than with a title or simply 'the great man' as Carlos had put it. "You have seen much. You have served well.  Will you do one last thing in the name of the Great Man?" The fires of passion lit within Carlos' eyes. "Anything!" Good, Narang thought. He had provoked with just enough blasphemy to get just the right amount of obedience when he reversed it. This was precise psychological programming and needed just this kind of finesse. "Take out your knife please." Carlos unsheathed his knife with a quick motion. "Cut a three inch gash in your belly." His hand stalled. "The Great Man issues a test through me.  You will only win his glory through obedience." Carlos' hand shook but he did as commanded and fell with a grunt. Narang rose and walked past the fallen man as he bled. "Do not move Carlos. It is a test of your faith." Narang knew Carlos would die in an hour. He found Benito outside the cavern chamber. "Carlos requeted to stay inside in meditation Benito.  He had an odd look in his eye but I granted his request.  Do not disturb him." "Yes sir." "You will accompany Patel and I to New Canaveral." "Yes sir." Narang wondered why he had given into his whim regarding Carlos.  He knew it was a strike against the Fundys of old, but he regretted losing such a strong man.  Still the stain of Touareg's mistakes and failure could not presist in this new incarnation.  Narang would see to that.  Thsi was greater than all of them.

Lawrence met with Chong for several hours, satisfying himself that this was in fact Richard Chong. There were things he knew that Lawrence felt sure a brainwashed clone couldn’t know.  Still, Lawrence had asked Ford his thoughts and Ford had dismissed them immediately.
“First, that’s not really the Fundy style.  I don’t think they would have put as much effort into getting me or my clones to kill Chong if they thought they could replace him.”
“But what if they kept it secret?” Lawrence had asked.
Ford shook his head. “I know clones pretty well, Lawrence. My son shows certain signs of being a clone that are obvious.  I don’t see those signs in Chong. I know it’s odd that he showed up here, but it’s just not likely he’s a clone.  Instead he’s our best chance of winning rights for the clones.”
Lawrence had noticed how obsessed Ford had become with clone rights since his son had turned around.  Ford took a certain amount of pride in pointing out the adaptation of his son to his role as clone. Ford junior beamed with every compliment and that in turn reinforced Ford’s love for him.
It was such a turnaround, that Lawrence decided not to take Ford’s judement alone. Hence the hours of conversation with Chong.
“I get the sense you’ve been trying to get something out of me Lawrence, what is it?” Chong said finally.
Lawrence couldn’t quite phrase it. “Well, sir, I had to be sure.”
“Sure about what?” Chong raised an eyebrow.
“Sure that you weren’t a clone sent by the Fundys.”
Chong looked legitimately surprised. “Really?  You thought they could do that?”
“Well, they seem to have done a number on Ford with Junior. Don’t you find that odd?  How thoroughly devoted he has become to junior in such a short time.”
Chong rubbed his chin. “Well, I hadn’t noticed it.  I suppose you’re right. But I’m not sure Ford is dangerous now.  Except maybe as a lobbyist.”
Lawrence laughed in spite of himself.
“I’m impressed Lawrence.  You haven’t laughed at one of my jokes since we were on that overland trip to Tranquility.”
The summer after the one they spent in the mines together, Chong and Lawrence had taken a trip from Trudolubie colony in a Moon Hopper all the way out around through Ambrosius Settlement and down between Cana and the UMC to Tranquility. It was the Moon equivalent of the great road trip, though far more dangerous since to ride in a Moon Hopper, you were out of colonial domes for most fo the trip. In fact, the idea had been to see if they could make the entire trip without setting foot inside a dome.  They cheated and stopped inside Rafiki for supplies and spent a night in Armstrong. But it was still a thrilling time that Lawrence would never forget. Chong’s fond memory of it was a clincher.  Lawrence wasn;t sure why he had ever doubted.
They returned from the room thay had been talking in, to find Sira setting out a dinner of Palak Paneer and rice.
“You people are eating me out of house and home,” she said as she ladled the food onto a plate for everyone. LAwrence suspected she was enjoying having people to cook for.  Lawrence had suggested they run out to get food form a restaurant but Sira had insisted it was too dangerous and that she must cook.
Over dinner, Ford broached the subject again of clone rights.
“Don’t you think Mr. President, that we could make the United Moon Colonies the leader in this space?”
“What are you proposing Ford?” asked Chong.
“You have the advantage now. The entire Earth sees the UMC as the saviours of the world. Seize that stage while you have it.  Speak to the world while they’ll listen.”
“And say what?”
‘Tell them that clones are people and cloning research should not only be allowed, but funded and advanced.  That clones should responsibly be integrated into our lives. That cloning is not a word to fear, but a community of people to be embraced.  Make life for me and my son, not only legal, but exemplary.”
“I’m sorry Ford, I can say all that but it won’t change people’s minds.”
“Then don’t wait for them to change. Make it a Presidential order.  Cloning and cloning research will be funded by the UMC. Cloning rights will be enshrined in law and a new UMC laboratory for cloning research will be opened in New Canaveral for the purpose of responsible research in cloning.  I have the equipment to get us staarted.  i know who to contact to start filling positions.”
This last bit startled Lawrence.
“You mean the people who cloned you against your will and set your clones to kill Chong here,” Lawrence interjected in spite of himself. “You mean the Fundys.”
“I’m surprised at you Lawrence,” Chong chided. “You usually let me make the blunt objections.  But he’s right Ford. Is that who you mean?”
Ford sighed and shook his head.
“Is that who made me Father?” asked Junior.
“You’ve had dealings withe Fundys directly?” Sira looked shocked.
“Settle down everyone.  I know what I’m proposing is complicated,” Ford winced and waved his hands as if to wipe the hanging questions out of the air. “Yes, Sira, I’ve had direct dealings with the Fundys.  I was their captive.  They made clones of me without my knowledge.  I eventually won their trust and took cloning machines of my own and broke away from them. Only a faction of them remain and they are a cloning faction. And here’s where it gets tricky.  Not all of them are bad. Some of them are just scientists, forced to cooperate with the Fundys to continue their research because they would be presecuted anywhere else.  I’m saying Chong could make it safe for them to conduct research here, and take them away from the Fundys.”
“Like Minister Narang?”
“Narang, if that wasn’t a clone itself that you saw, isn’t a scientist.  I’m talking about their clone researchers.  The ones this faction employed against Touraeg’s wishes because they were too secular. They don’t have any loyalties to any one ideology.”
“Doesn’t sound like they have any morals either,” quipped Sira as she got up to clear the table.  Lawrence rose at once to help.
“What do you say, Chong?  Will you give it a chance?”
“I’ll think about it,” Chong finally agreed.  “I’ll let you know tomorrow.”
Lawrence and Chong shared a room in Junior’s apartment, while the two Ford’s slept in the other bedroom and Sira slept on a couch, insisting she didn’t mind at all.
“What do you think of Ford’s plan, Lawrence.  I don’t like it much but I see his logic.”
“Sir, there is no reason to rush something like this.”
“What do we do with his son though.  All clones are supposed to be destroyed according to convention.”
This caught Lawrence by surprise.  It was true that the century old cloning convention required any government in knowledge of any clonig meant for human reproduction, was required to destroy the cloning materials viable or not. However that had been agreed on when clonig humans was somehwat unfathomable and likely to mean destroying petri dishes not people. Add to that the fact that the UMC had not signed that treaty as it was not recognised by other nations at the time.  They had abided by it nonetheless, but were not technically bound by it.
“You don’t aim to kill the boy, do you Mr. President?”
“Of ocurse not, Lawrence, but it gets tricky if I don’t. If it gets out, which it will, that I knowingly harbored clones or even just this one, then I’ll face questions from within and without. That forces you to make a stand, but then you look defensive.”
“And people are less likely to listen.  I see where you’re going with this Mr. President.”
“Because we’ll face those questions anyway, wouldn’t it be better to raise them ourselves, preemptively.”
“Yes, and make an example of Ford and Ford junior. Make them the heartwarming reason why we are bucking the law.”
“Exactly Lawrence, the public will side with us all over both worlds.  Nobody will want to see the boy killed.”
“But then we’r eleft with the Fundy ties.”
“I’ve thought of that too.  What if the Fundy faction comes above ground in the UMC.  We could be seen as aiding Fundys in this.”
“So, what choice do we have Mr. President?”
“We have to steal the intitiative there too Lawrence.  Establish this research facility just as Ford suggests to take the wind out of the Fundy faction.  Get their scientists and quiet them forever.”
“What if it doesn’t quiet them though? What if it’s what they want, and helps them infiltrate?”
Chong thought this over. “I don’t see what choice we have. Plus I don’t think it’s likely.  I don’t even think it would work if it was their plan. But keep your eyes open, just in case.”
“Yes sir,” Lawrence said. “I’ll make the arrangments tomorrow morning for a policy speech in new Canaveral. I’m going to get ready to go to sleep. Do you want to use the restrroom first?”
“No Lawrence, you go ahead.  I’m going to go out to the kitchen and get some more water.”
“Thank you sir.  I won’t be long.”
Lawrence took his things into the bathroom and closed the door. Chong got up and went out to the kitchen.  As white as the room was in the daytime it was dark at night. The lights sprung to light as they sensed him coming but stayed dim in their nighttime mode. Chong grabbed a glass from the counter and turned to find Ford Junior there.
“Good evening Chong.  Gettins some water? Memory Release Code Alpha Wipe Center Gold Devil Fawn Beta Two Minutes Information Only Complete.”
“Chong started to reply then his eyes went blank and his grip slackened.  He dropped the glass but Ford Junior caught it.
“That wouldn’t do at all.  I’ll have to file a bug on that.”
Chong’s eyes fluttered and then he spoke in a dull, not quite monotone voice. “Basic system accessed, ready for information retrieval.”
“Very good. Have you made the request for policy speech cloning?”
“Yes,” the dull voice replied from the clone Chong’s mouth. “Speech will be arranged tomorrow morning.”
“Excellent. Shut down and wipe memory back to my water interrogative prior to access code.”
“Affirmative, memory wipe to semantic request prior to access code.  Control returning to biological imprint in five seconds.”
Chong stood slackjawed and Ford placed the glass on the counter next to him.  He hoped it didn’t cause too much cognitive dissonance. After a few blinks of the eye, a normal expression returned to Chong’s face.
“Yes, rather– thirsty. Why’d I put that down?  Anyway.  I’m rather tired too I guess.”
“Well I understand. Are you going to help my father?”
“I hope so Junior.  I hope so.  Good night.”
“Please Mr. Chong.  PLease help him if you can.  Good night.”
Chong nodded and walked back to the bedroom.
Ford Junior went out the front door of the apartment and opened a small communicator woven into his shirt.
“Yes this is Ford 18. Tell our leader the speech is approved. Proceed to New Canaveral.”
Ford closed the communicator and went back into the apartment.

Chong had spent several hours attempting to make the minidrill work. Malinao had gotten the release undone rather easily and moved on to the cockpit to see if she could raise communications while Chong performed surgery on the minidrill.
The first order of business for Malinao was facing the dead men.  She moved what men she could drag out of the cockpit and covered them.  She had the macabre thought that they might need to burn them to prevent the smell, then the even more goulish realization that burning the dead could remove what little oxygen they had.  She noticed her breaths came heavier but she didn’t mention it to Chong.
The radio equipment was barely accessible inbetween chunks of rock. Malinao found a part of a hand overthe controls. She breathed deep and used an axe from the tool cabinet to hack the hand away.  Ironically she had to tourniquet the dead arm to keep the blood from seeping out into the control board.
She had faced bad conditions before which gave her a strong stomach, but all this was testing her. In her youth she had been shipped down to Texas to her Lola’s ranch outside Austin. Her Lola was a mean old woman, who aside from giving birth to Malinao’s Father, seemed to have no other connection to her family. In her old testiness she refused to leave her ranch but needed someone to care for her. Malinao had eventually been coaxed into volunteering.
Lola Josie was brutal.  She made Samantha slaughter cattle, herd goats and all manner of the most disguting chores a young girl from Chicago could possibly be given. Finally at the end of the summer Lola Josie had died. That was the worst. Malinao had come upstairs to give her Lola the morning sponge bath she demanded. Instead of complaining about how lates Samantha was, she only breathed heavily. When Malinao aske her if she was OK, the old lady had spit on her and called her several bad names in tagalog. Still Malinao had sensed the end was drawing near and had stayed with her holding her hand. The only other words she spoke were a quiet prayer followed by a request that Samantha bring in Oliver. Oliver, Malinao’s Loloed twelve years earlier. After a half hour od sitting by the old woman’s bedsied Malinao had been thanked for her troubles by watching her Lola sit bolt upright in bed turn, look at Samantha and scream, then vomit blood all over her and everything and lay down dead.
The only consolation for that torturous summer had been a box she found set out on a chair in her Lola’s bathroom.  It was marked, “For Samantha” and contained her Lola’s personal diaries and two million dollars in cash. Her parents ha dbanked the cash in Samantha’s name and had quite a few fights with others in the family over the proper disposition.  In the end it had paid for Malinao’s college. The diaries described a long life from a young age to elderliness, and did more to explain the Lola’s condition and attitude toward the world, than anything that could have been said at the time. Malinao had taken it as an apology and felt at peace.
All those memories came flooding back to her as blood spattered on her while she worked on clearing the communications console. She finally found a power router that was unplugged by the cave-in and got power back to the main console board.  There was still no signal generation and she suspected the antennae were all crushed and unservicable. She thought she’d have a look to see if she could somehow jam some kind of makeshift antenna into a port on the hull somewere just to see if they could pick up anything.
As she walked back toward the minidrill, she heard Chong coming.
“Any luck?” she shouted.
He appeared in the doorway, ten times as sweaty and attractive as he had looked earlier before the cave-in.
“No.  I can’t seem to get the motor to engage.  It’s not damaged but the actuators won’t fire.  The power’s not the issue.  I think it’s unrelated to the cave-in. Somehow the sparks just decided to stop firing right now.  I was going to look around and see if we had an spare parts.  How’s the cockpit?  He had a look of concern.
“Messy.  But don’t worry, I’ve seen worse. I’ll tell you about my summer in texas sometime.”
“Can’t wait– I think,” said Chong.
“I got the console cleared and powered but there’s no signal generation.  I was about to have a look around and see if there’s anywhere I could jimmy up an antenna connection.”
“There’s a porthatch midway back from the cockpit console where you might find a port.  I’ll help you look after we eat.”
Malinao looked suprised. “Eat?”
“Yeah, why not.  We can’t breathe or leave, so we might as well eat.  The refrigeration unit is stocked and undamaged.”
Chong walked over and swung open a small white door int he wall.
“What’ll you have?”
“What’s on the menu?” Malinao asked.
“Chicken salad.  Chicken breast.  Fried Chiken and Tofu supplement B15. And grape juice to drink.”
“Who the hell is your cook?  I’ll ahve the chicken.  I mean the chicken breast.”
“And of course the grape juice.”
“Of course.”
They sat down at a fold down table and set to eating.
“It seems strange to have a perfecetly normal sitdown meal in the middle of all this.”
Chong agreed. They fell to talking about the how they’d been thrown into this situation.
“I should never have volunteered to give you a ride to Omaha!” Malinao chuckled.
“I’m glad you did,” Chong ventured.
Malinao gave him a long look and smirked.
“At the risk of having one of those dramatic confessions at a dying moment, I think you’re something else, Richard Chong.”
Chong blushed.  He hoestly blushed.
“Why are you blushing?” she teased.
He looked down. “It’s very difficult for me to be with someone,” Malainao started to reply with a snappy comeback but Chong stopped her. “No don’t.  Let me get this out. It’s not because I’m the President.  Being single hasn’t helped in that respect.  It’s something I’ve had to overcome.  It’s something about me. I can’t settle. Yet anyone I’ve found that fits what I hope for, is either already taken, or not interested.  I don’t wish to compromise, I don’t want someone to lie to me, so I go it alone. I just,” his eyes were tearing a little bit. “I just never could find the right person.  I could never trust someone I guess.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” Malinao murmered.
“Because with one look at you, all my will vanished. I stopped caring about having the right person. I knew if I could be–if I could be with you– none of my ther concerns would matter.  It wouldn’t be sdettling, it would just be right.  And I live in deadly fear that you won’t feel the same. So now I’ve gone and done it and told you an dprobably put you off and ruined everything, but there you have it.”
Malinao looked down and tried to hide a smile. “Well you sure put a girl in a hard position. I mean don’t I have enough to think about what with the life or death situation here?”
Chong loked stricken. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“You shouldn’t be.  And I shouldn’t play with you like that,” Malinao whispered back, truly taken aback by how sad he had just looked. She took his hands in hers. “Chong, look at me.
He gazed up at her with a blank expression. He allowed no emotion to cross his face.
“I feel the same. I promise. And when we get out of her, I promise I will still feel the same.  And if you want to dom seomthing about it then, I highly encourage it. So don’t get me wrong when I say, right now, we need to worry about gettin gout of here.”
“Promise?” Chong said. Malinao was struck by his tone.  It was not a little boy’s tone asking for his parents to keep a promise.  It was a threat. It was a challenge. And Malinao found that excited her all the more.
“You can bet on it, boy. Now finish your chicken and let’s get your bucket of bolts drilling again.
Chong agreed and went back to the minidrill stony-faced but happier than he’d ever been in his life. Malinao returned to the cockpit and found the hatch Chong had mentioned on her own. She found the antenna ports and wires and played with them for a half hour but didn’t have any luck.  Her breathing was getting very heavy and she knew they needed to conserve oxygen, so she decided to take  abreak. She was just closing up the hatch when she heard a large explosion from the other end. She went runningback through the other compartment to find the minidrill smoking and Chong lying face down on the floor in a pool of blood.
“Chong!” she screamed.

• This is an ongoing story as part of National Novel Writing Month
• Sira brought out a tray of steaming bowls of noodles.
  “That ought to stem your hunger for a bit,” she said as she placed the bowls in front of Ford, Lawrence and the younger Ford.
  “Are you sure you don’t remember?” the elder Ford prodded.
  The young Ford furrowed his brow. “No, I don’t.  I’m sorry Fathyer.  My only memories are of you.”
  Ford knew they had been experimenting with memory implants but this was amazing. The young Ford clone ahd been made to believe he had grown up in Omaha, been taken to the Moon by Ford’s wife and then abandoned by her. He had been in an orphanage until he was captured and brought o this apartment.
  And that still left Ford and Lawrence wondering whether they should trust Sira. She had explained that an anti-Fundy group she belonged to had been contacted a week ago by an unnamed source. That source had delivered them the captured Ford clone and later fed them information on how to capture and release the original Ford and Lawrence.
  Ford looked into the boys adoring eyes.  The way he said Father truly reminded him of his own children who missed so dearly.
  “How do you know to trust your sources?” asked Lawrence.
  Sira dropped a spoon in the kitchen and exhaled. “I told you we don’t know, bu they’ve come through every time. My bosses say they have reasons to trust them.  I don’t know what they are. Why are you so suspicious?”
  Lawrence didn’t know where to begin after all he’d gone through.
  “Because they’ve made a perfect clone son for me, and that was never a part of their plan that I knew of,” said Ford muttering.
  The clone-child looked as if he was about to cry. “What do you mean, Father?”
  Ford’s heart almost broke.
  “Look what you’ve done!” Sira protected the young Ford with the care of an older sister. She had been taking care of him for weeks in this apartment. “He’s  aboy.  He’s real.  He’s you!  He’s not a thing.” She handed a tissue to the clone boy.
  Ford knelt down in front of the boyish version of himself. “Son, you’re memories aren’t real.  I know that’s very difficult for you to grasp, but they’r enot.  They were implanted. You are my son in a way. A nd I can’t help but care for you.  You were made from my genes, from my flesh.  But you were not born to me.  You never knew the woman you think was your Mother.  If you think hard, as painful as it is, those memories will fall apart.”
  “No!” the young clone threw his soup bowl across the room, smashing it agains t the wall. “Why do you hate me Father!   Why!  After all I’ve been through why must you reject me too!” He ran off into the bedroom.
  Sira glared a hole in Ford. “I hope you’re happy.”
  Fod sighed and sat back down. Yes.  In some way I am.”
  Before he could continue, Sira began to yell at him again. “How can you say that!  That boy has been through a war, pulled into a totally different world, abandoned by his Mother, captured by the Fundys, sold to black market operatives and then brought to us, only to have his Father treat him like a science experiment!  You’re heartless and I’m sorry I ever brought you here!”
  “Sira, please try to listen to me. What our young John Ford just experienced is known in brain programming as a psychic break.  It’s painful to learn that memories have been implanted.  But the procedure is not so good that it can’t be self-broken by the subject.”
  “There you go again,” she yelled. “He’s not a thing– a – a subject he’s your son.”
  “No Sira” and here Ford raised his voice as well. “He’s not my son, he’s me!  Every cell, every genetic bit, everything but his mind is me.  You haven’t known that but I have ten times over.  And th ebond is much different than a father and son.  I am him. And I know what he goes through here.  He must be angry.  It’s part ofth e process of freeing him from his programming. If you want him, the other me, in there, to be truly free, free to hope, free to feel honestly, free to love, then you must let him hurt a bit first. If that means you wish me to leave then I’ll go!”
  Someone knocked at the door.
  Sira stood frozen.  She didn’t know what to do about Ford and she couldn’t deal with that argument and an unexpected caller.
  “Hide!  Go!” She shunted them off down the hall and went for the door. “Who is it?”
  “It’s Chong.  Is Lawrence there?”
  Sira risked opening the door. “President?  President Chong?”
  “Yes.”
  “Get in here quick.”
  Lawrence came running out from the other room. “Mr. President!  We’re so happy to see you!We’re so glad we found you!”
  Chong smiled and hugged Lawrence.  Which Lawrence found odd but figured what the heck. He then shook Ford’s hand.
  “It’s good to see you Ford.  We’ve been through a lot together.”
  “Yes we have Chong,” Ford said smiling.
  “Who’s this behind you?”
  Ford turned to see tear-streaked face behind him. “This is my son.  John Ford Jr.”
  Ford smiled a bit at being introduced that way and shook Chong’s hand. They paused just a moment longer than normal as they shook, staring deeply into each others eyes.
  “A pleasure to meet you Junior,” said Chong.”
  “A great honour to meet you Mr. President.”
  Only Lawrence noticed that they blinked three times synchronously.
  “What happened to Malinao?” lawrence interrupted.
  “She’s fine,” said Chong turning.  He looked uncertain as he faced Lawrence. “At least as far as I know,” Chong looked as if he were trying to remember something. “We got back to Tranquility and Vice President Hashimoto and Speaker Malinao were headed back to Cana to look for you. I was headed back to New Canaveral to try diplomatic channels when I was contatced by Sira’s group, letting me know you were here. I sent word to Tranquility but I haven’t heard back.” Chong smiled when he got to the end of the explanation.
  “Where are the guards?  Outside?” Lawrence prodded.
  “No,” Chong answered more quickly this time. “I came alone this time.  I didn’t want to attract undue attention to Sira’s group.  It was part of the deal.”
  “Risky, Mr. President.”
  “You know me,” he smiled in the way only Chong could.  Lawrence still felt puzzled by something.
  Meanwhile Ford had been whispering to his young clone self.
  “I’m so pleased you’ve come now Mr. president.  Sira, your young friend here is a marvel. Tell them junior.”
  “I hear dwhat Father said about the psychich break and I channeled my anager against my memories.  And they broke.  They were gone, yuou know flimsy.  Liek I read them in a abook, not actually lived them.  So I understand now.  And I want to live with my Father, even though he’s my clone-Father.”
  Ford turned to Chong with the widest smile anyone in the room had ever seen on him. “You have a brilliant chance here, Mr. president.  A chance to whip the rug out from under the Fundys.  YOu have the chance, with junior here and I as a test case, to enact the first clone laws ever.  To move it out of the realm of forbidden practice and in the realm of regulated responsible activity.  And we’re your poster family.  Loving father and clone son.  This is ahte face of cloning here.”
  Ford looked down beaming on his junior self. Sira had tears in her eyes, touched by the scene.  Chong rubbed his chin, pondering the idea. Only Lawrence looked worried.

Chong took over the operation of the minidrill on Malinao’s return.  He wanted to insure the hole was properly closed up, so not leaks would occur. It gave Malinao and Hashimoto about a half hour to try to figure out what to do next. They could search for a one-armed British man throughout the UMC fairly easily, but if he stayed in Cana, they would get no help. Still Hashimoto phoned back the description an dbulleting to the UMC police.
When Chong was done he was covered in sweat and Moon grime but satisified that the hole wouldn’t leak and give away their activities there.  They all agreed the shed would probably not be investigated too closely by Canaan authorities.
“Have you puzzled out what happened, Samantha? Chong asked as he toweled off.
Malinao found herself extra charmed not only by this unusual use of her first name, but also the brawny sweaty mand who used it.
“Not really.  There were car tracks in the building, so whatever came, came in a hurry and broke right through the door. There was no sign of Narang’s men, but it didn’t look like they abandoned the place, just left in a hurry.”
Hashimoto ordered the drill to reverse course and begin extracting itself back from whence they came. They had to speak up over the rumbling.
“I wonder why they left the arm?  do you think they discovered the dot?” shouted Chong
“Not likely,” Malinao shouted back. “They probably were in a hurry to clear out of there.  None of the really incriminating stuff was there, and their relationship with Cana probably can’t survive too much scrutiny.”
“”What did you do with the arm?” Chong yelled.
“What?”
“What did you do with the arm?”
“I left it there,” Malinao was almost screaming now. “Why is the drill running so loud?”
“I don’t know.”
The rumbling that had been growing excessively loud, grew into a groan and a shriek and suddenly the drill went dark. A tearing scream of metal, possibly mixed with the screams of men, died down into the sicekning thuds of rocks falling in from the tunnel ceiling, burying the drill.
“What happened?” Malinao whispered into the eerie silence that followed.
“I don’t know.”
The barest glow of the few working emergency lights lit there way to Hashimoto who lay dead under a fallen spike of metal, impaled almost immediately during the accident. Chong reached over and closed his eyes.
“Dear lord,” he whispered.
Malinao couldn’t speak, but reached out to grab his hand.
“What do we do?”
“Let’s see if anyone else is OK, then check the minidrill.  We might be able to get out in it.”
The other crew were all stationed in the forward compartment of the large drill. Chong wrestled with the mangled cockpit door now partially embedded in rock that had fallen through the ceiling.
“It looks like the whole tunnel roof just fell in. It’s not impossible but extremely unlucky.” Chong finally rested the door far enough apart to move into the dark cockpit.  No emergency lights glowed in there.
“Hello!  Everyone OK?”
They heard nothing but a deadly silence.
“I– I need a light,” Chong said.
“I’ll get one,” Malinao turned and went to the emergency locker thankfully preserved intact and brought back a light.
What Chong found inside was too horrific to describe.  Rock, metal and man were mixed into an indstinguishable pile of rubble. Chong closed the light.
“We’re all that’s left,” he exhaled.
Malinao sighed. “Well, do you think the minidrill’s working.”
Chong admired her resilience.  Granted she didn’t see what he just saw in the cockpit.
“It’ll be a tight fit if it is.’
“Tight fit’s better than nothing.  Let’s go Mr. president,” she grimly patted him on the back as they made their way towards the minidrill.
Chong climbed in and tried to execute a manula start but couldn’t get the engine to fire up. He tried several times, raising Malinao’s hopes each time as she saw lights turn on and engines whine only to have it all sputter out and die.
Chong disembarked shaking his head.
“It’s not sparking the engine on its own. I’m not sure why.  We haven’t run it manually all trip.  Even all my work just now sealing the hole was done connected to the ships energy and control. I’ll have to open up the engine and have a look.
“Can you do that?”
“Well, I’m not an actual mechanic, but I know enough about how these engines are supposed to work I might be able to luck into figuring something out.”
“Won’t they come looking for us, I mean after awhile.  If it takes you too long to get it going.”
Chong knew what she meant.  He had sealed the hole at the Cana end and the rocks in the cockpit looked to have sealed it pretty well in front of them. Even with the grill open, air wouldn’t last forever.
“It’s a covert mission.  If we don’t come out, they’r enot supposed to alert anyone.  That was the risk.”
“That was stupid,” Malinao pointed out.
“Well that’s the only way we could even get this harebrained scheme done.  We had to man it ourselves an dpretty much not tell anyone. Our best bet is to get this drill going. If we can do that, we can at least get far enough to make a phone call and tell them to come get us.  Right now they don’t know if we got captured and killed in Cana or what happened.”
Malinao just shook her head.
Chong decided to keep her mind off it. “I have a job for you too, so don’t feel like you’re left out,” he grinned.
“Oh and what’s that? Moral support?” she was not in the mood for jokes.
“No, the release bar for the minidrill will have to be undone manually once I get the engine going.  It’s pretty badly bent.  I need you to work at it and see if you can get it to move. If i get the engine going and you can undo the release bar, we’ll be golden.
She grudgingly accepted the assignment, marching off to the mangled supply cabinet to look for usable tools.
Chong watched her go and let the wind out of his lungs.  He had no idea how to fix a minidrill engine and no idea if there was enough air to even survive the hour. There was nothing to do but work and hope.

Narang muttered snd groaned scracthing at the recently cauterized arm. He knew he could get a new one off a clone, but the circumstances and the pain still nettled him. He felt he’d almost lost everything.  None fo the bargaining chips were in his corner any longer.  The Colonial Governor of Cana was cooling on their arrangment given the damage at the shed. He needed a break and he needed it quick.
Carlos marched into the room with a look of purpose on his face.
“We’ve word from Armstrong,” he said.
“What is it?  Out with it,” Narang was in no mood to be civil.
“They’ve gone straight for the young clone.
Perfect, thought Narang.  Now they had a foorhold. The young clone had been implanted with a tracking device and his psyche specifically molded to win the original Ford’s affection. Originally it had been meant as agift after the completion of Ford’s mission, but after Ford had gone rogue, they changed the young Ford to be a capture device. Hopefully the original Ford wouldn’t be too suspicious of its origins. It was not one of the clones Ford had generated himself in his lab in Oakland.
“Benito brought new from Patel as well.”
“Well man, how many times do I have to say this.  Don’t beat around the bush.”
“It’s ready.”
Narang’s eyes lit up. This was good news indeed and well ahead of schedule.
“Let’s get over to the lab,” Narang ordered.
“Are you OK to move?”
“Quite, quite.”
Carlos drove the car and they made the circuitous route to the lab to ensure they weren’t followed. Narang still hadnt learned who had been digging underneath the shed, but he had his suspicions. You couldn’t be too careful, especially with the Canaan government starting to lean away from them again.
They arrived at a low slung dark black building nestled in an industrial area of the colony by the hydration and air plants. It had once been a suite of offices for the energy officers of Cana before they were moved into the main civic building. It was separated from the other buildings around it by a tall wire fence.  The windows were darkened, dating back to the paranoid times when Cana though the UMC might try to sabotage it’s energy works. It had sat derelict for severl years before Patel and Narang approached the Canaan government to lease it. It was perfect for their purposes. A guard let Narang and Carlos in at the fence gate and they walked up the cement path lined somewhat ironically with Moonflowers. They had almost withered out form lack of care when Narang took over the place and he ordered them restored. He didn’t know wy he just liked the look of them. He took this simple joy with him as raised his eyes expectantly to the dark black front door fo the lab.
Patel and Benito met them in the reception area.
Patel ushered them down a pastel blue hallway beyond reception. “My assistants are finishing the procedures. It should be ready to meet you as soon as they’re done.  We can wait in my office. ” He chose a yellow door with the number 300 on it and let them enter before him.
Patel’s office was bare.  A desk a few pieces of office equipment and a large picture of the first Earthrise from the Moon that had been hanging in the office before he occupied it. The only hint of Patel’s personality was a bust of Francis Crick he had carried with him since school.
“I took the liberty of accelerating the project.  I hope you don’t mind Leader.” Aptel said as ahe sat down.
“No, it is most necessary at this point. Will it damage the integrity of the specimen at all though?”
“I should think not.  I’ve discovered a way to cut out a large swath of incubation time,” Patel warmed to his subject. “The interpolation sequences we had been using were hiding an inefficency, churning through useless information.  By cutting these useless sequences out, we’re able to reduce production time by a third without any harm to the expressed qualities.”
“I see,” said Narang.  He got slightly annoyed when Patel talked over his head, and did not like to admit it. “So it’s guaranteed?”
“As much quality as ny of them.”
“Fantastic.  When can we have a look?”
“I should say it’s just about ready–”
At that moment a young woman in a lab coat opened the door and announced that the procedures were complete and a success.
Patel led the group down the hallway through a large set of grey steel doors into a wide open are where several offices had been merged by knocking walls down.  Bright lights lit a laboratory floor and several technicians were gathered around a gurney far to the right.
Thr group approached and Patel asked the technicians to remove themselves. A body lay on the gurney.  Patel poked and prodded it and shown a flashlight in its eyes. He then grabbed a hypospray from a side table and injected the body.
It woke and shakily sat up, shaking its head.
“Hello,” said Narang moving closer.  The body looked up skeptically at him.  Trying to place the voice. “I’m Minister Narang, and who might you be?”
The body looked as though it was trying to remember something long forgotten.  IT furrowed its brown and then muttered. “Chong.  I think I’m Richard Chong.”