Fratricide

3: The Stage

Senator Gretsche was an infuriatingly squirrely man. He exuded anxiety in almost every nervous glance, every wipe of the brow, every stutter. Daniel looked at him and suddenly felt like he understood why professional killers were now manufactured. Some genomes simply weren't cut out for taking lives. For this man, it was a blessing politics only involved murder when it was from a great distance. He sat across from Daniel at his own desk in some high office with bay windows overlooking a bustling city filled with billowing clouds and soaring transports.

"Dr. Ciresi."

"Yes, senator."

"The committee is thus far impressed with your work; as administrative liaison, I am here to compliment you personally on the range of results you've been able to gather from the um... inmates."

"Thank you, senator, but I have to remind you that performing to a certain standard is easier when I have so little choice in the matter."

"Ye-es Doctor, we're still sorry about that... but-ut as you know the number of qualified participants for your position is extraordinarily low. We're still looking but until that replacement is found we hope you will accept the stipend and carry on for the sake of the program."

"Of course." Already he couldn't stand the company even though he rarely had any to speak of or to. Daniel believed in the project but he hardly had anything to do with its development and his being kept in the dark wasn't exactly ideal. Still, finding a print with a degree in psychology was completely unheard of. His graduation had practically been a headliner in some off-world colonies.

"I'll get to it then." The senator pulled up a file on Daniel's display and began to go over the finer points. "Now that you have gleaned data from enough offenders a more effective direction can now be taken in terms of your investigation," he wheezed. "I can reveal to you S-stage 2."

Daniel yawned, the theatrics of Congress was not entertaining enough to warrant undivided attention; the attempted suicide of the night before and its outcome were also weighing on his mind. This Stage 2, whatever it was, would hopefully provide him with some idea of how much time it would take to adequately satisfy the requirements of the "project."

"I'm ready."

Gretsche cleared his throat with a phlegm-infused cough. He pulled out a vintage manilla envelope, lifted the brads, and pulled out a thick spiral bound document.

"Please tell me there's an abridged version you can get for me."

Gretsche laughed, wavering and boisterous. "As you would have it there was a summary arranged f-for you that I'm required to read. The rest of it will arrive shortly so you can have the specifics if necessary." He cleared his throat again and dropped his stutter as he took up his literary task with gusto. Evidently, he was elected for one skill and not many.

"The number of homicidal recruits now interspersed among the historically reliable and stable Clone Combatants of Congress is at a record high. When the armies were first organized one hundred and eighty-five years ago there were virtually no court marshalls, a feat attributed to the integrity of the genome selected for replication. The template had been rigorously analyzed in almost every conceivable way for significant deficiencies that would negate the intentions of producing a clone force of considerable size. His relationship with his twin brother also provided additional insurance that the humanoid reproductions would interact and behave well when forced into regimented comradery with one another. For all intents and purposes, the project was a success and has been for almost two centuries."

"But..." Daniel thought.

"The vision of the CCC is now in jeopardy. The rebellious nature of a few has compromised what was previously understood to be flawless functionality. The benefits of complete control over the sheltering military force by Congress are now at ends with structural abnormalities. The termination of the army will be considered if a viable explanation and solution are not presented within the coming year."

Daniel blinked. The very idea of the CCC being liquidated was inconceivable. Hundreds of millions terminated for not keeping up perceptions of utter, loyal perfection. He felt angry. His brothers may suffer from human maladies but their effectiveness as warriors was not up for debate, they had single-handedly colonized the galaxy! Twenty-seven worlds and counting. Millions of lives lost. They were the engine of human conquest!

"We need something to give the rest of Congress if we're going to save the CCC," Gretsche pleaded. "We know it works and will work for centuries to come. The dream of the human diaspora is absolutely dependent on this army. We will always continue to grow and need new worlds and they can't be taken without the CCC!"

"Save me the rhetoric senator. I know why you chose me and not any number of other professionals qualified for the project. I have a conflict of interest and you're using me because you know I'll work harder than anyone else to see my kind vindicated in front of Congress. I know there's no place for all the others in active duty, they'll be terminated and I might be considered a threat just the same!" Daniel was cold and stern. He seethed through the manipulation directed at him.

Gretsche wiped his brow but wasn't thrown completely off guard. "Now Doctor that's not entirely true. Who else better to understand our p-prints other than yourself? Your achievements have not gone unnoticed and the rest of the committee was r-rather taken with the idea. You might see things we were incapable of seeing." He paused as he pulled something up on his desk computer. "N-35617 died last night. His self-inflicted knife wound went to his vertebrae and severed both carotid arteries. He was dead in minutes."

"I know."

"Mmmmm. What was I saying? Oh yes, you're our best shot. Plain and simple. Give us reasons to believe this can be stopped somehow and I'll see to it personally that not a single print be decommissioned unjustly. Find out what the hell is going on Doctor." A beep rang out from his terminal. "Now I have to go, I'll make sure the specifics get to you within the hour. Thank you, Doctor. Godspeed."

The connection ended. Daniel got up and pressed a few buttons on the wall to his left. A panel slid deftly from the ceiling and a bag was lowered into the room. A panel slid open from the wall to reveal a set of pristine boxing gloves. He put them on and rolled his shoulders a few times. There was just enough space to avoid the term cramped as he took a few steps forward and sent a combination of punches into the synthetic leather. He let his thoughts be sloughed away by the methodic swinging of his arms. The gradual rising intensity in his work out was intentional. He maintained his pace despite the pain in his lungs and the sweat building on his brow. He gradually began to slow and after a while, he took off his gloves and stretched. He didn't know why, but he felt he had to be ready for anything when the time came.